


The Body

by spikes_heart



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikes_heart/pseuds/spikes_heart





	1. The End of the World

**The Body – Chapter 1 – The End of the World**

She’d taken to patrolling with Spike most nights – he was her perfect slaying partner. Quiet when she didn’t feel like talking, just as mouthy and quick witted as she when on a roll. She didn’t have to watch out for him and could always count on him to watch her back. The give and take quippage was a bonus.

If it weren’t for the fact that her friends and Watcher hated him – hated the fact that he was a vampire, hated that he was related to Angel in any sort of way and was quite frankly an annoying son of a bitch – Buffy would have had the best of both worlds.

Nothing could ever be that easy for her. They said it was a disgrace for her to be on her _second_ vampire. Chipped or not he should have been dusted when he showed up at Giles’ place last Thanksgiving, weak and disadvantaged.

Unable to stand the constant pressure from the Scoobies, Buffy finally told Spike to leave her alone for awhile; not to accompany her on patrol for at least a week, hoping it would get everyone off her back.

Spike wasn’t happy, but he acquiesced to her demands, especially since he had every intention of following close behind.

As if she could read his mind, Buffy changed her patrol pattern and habits. She started out an hour later at a different cemetery and worked her way backwards from her normal routine.

She started out at Sunnydale Cemetery, then hit Spike’s… Restfield Cemetery. Nothing more than a handful of dirty behind the ears newly risen fledglings. She was lonely and bored by the time she ended up at Shady Hill; she missed Spike’s companionship, though she would never tell him so.

It’s not like they were friends, right? More like… co-workers. Yeah, that’s it. Co-workers who had tried to kill each other several times over the years, and finally settled on an armed truce. Yup, that worked for her.

Buffy was so caught up in her own musings that she hadn’t heard the approach of a pair of Ognir demons. They weren’t exceptionally tall – about six feet or so – but they each weighed four to five hundred pounds. Their skin was as tough as an elephant’s hide, and exceptionally hard to pierce with anything but the sharpest honed blades. She knew they were slow moving, and wasn’t overly worried about fighting off two of them.

What she hadn’t counted on were the other half dozen or so Ognir that had snuck up and surrounded her as she concentrated on the two in front. The bastards had used themselves as bait to draw her attention.

And where the hell was Spike? Oh, right. She had the sinking feeling she’d made a severe tactical error in conceding to her friends’ demands.

This was bad. Really, really bad. It wasn’t like she’d never faced overwhelming odds before and come out on top… bloodied but unbowed. However, even Slayer strength was no match for eight Ognir who could pretty much crush her to death with a dogpile on her barely hundred pound frame.

Still, giving up wasn’t an option. Her number one rule was “Don’t die.” If given a choice, she’d hightail it out of there, gathering her forces to return to the fight with better odds. As it was, she was surrounded by an Ognir version of Stonehenge.

Buffy tried rushing the space between two of the demons but they held rank, keeping her trapped in their circle. Reaching behind her, she pulled a sword from the scabbard she wore snugly between her shoulderblades.

She made a valiant effort, but in the end, she’d only managed to kill two of the demons, ending up bruised and bleeding. The remaining Ognir were playing with her now; simply waiting for her strength to give out before they tore her limb from limb.

They shoved her back and forth like a Slayer dodgeball. One of the more ambitious demons lunged forward and grabbed her sword arm, breaking the long bones with a sickening snap that forced a scream from the girl.

Her vision flared white from the pain and then grayed out slowly as she realized she was going down for the count. A rather ignominious end after all those years of demon slaying. The odd thoughts flitted through her mind as everything slowly lost coherence:

She’d never see her sister, or the vaunted friends who insisted she patrol alone, again. She vaguely wondered if there would be enough left of her to identify after demon playtime was over. The last sound that registered was a furious, ululating war cry as she fell to the ground, unconscious.

***

Spike was livid. It had become obvious the silly bint was trying to avoid him by changing her patrol pattern. He’d already wasted an hour’s time trying to find her scent at several likely cemeteries. He caught the first hint of her not far from his own crypt in Restfield, and quickly extrapolated her most likely route for the rest of the night.

The closer he drew to Shady Hill, the more worried he got. Something wasn’t right. He felt the small hairs rise on the back of his neck in anticipation of… 

That was when he heard her cry out in pain. It was a sound Spike had rarely heard from her and his panic increased as he sped towards it.

With a roar he slipped off his human mask and charged, whooping and making as much noise as he could, hoping to distract the Ognir from their prey.

Knowing the Slayer’s life was at stake, Spike tore through the Ognir with a vicious, single minded determination. The vampire was fueled by fear and anger at seeing Buffy lying in a bloodied heap behind two of the Ognir who were standing guard over her inert form. 

Before long, Spike was covered in muddy brown blood and strands of flesh as Ognir limbs piled up on the ground. The two demons guarding Buffy decided to cut their losses, turning tail and running as the enraged vampire took down the last of their four brethren.

Spike practically flew the last few feet between himself and the fallen Slayer. He didn’t have to touch her to know she was in danger of bleeding out. In another lifetime, even as recently as a year ago, the smell of all that freshly spilled Slayer blood would have made him harder than steel; now it just made him gag.

Cataloguing her injuries was irrelevant. Getting her to the hospital was paramount. He was grateful for the hours of darkness still ahead of him. Scooping the battered girl into his arms, Spike ran as quickly as he could to Sunnydale General, pleading with her to hold on just a little longer.

The medical staff swarmed all over them when Spike finally barreled through the Emergency doors. Covered in what appeared to be mud and far too much blood they hauled Buffy from his arms and tried to wrestle the resisting vampire into an examination room of his own.

He insisted that all he needed was a shower, and if they were unhappy with his appearance he would submit to an exam, knowing full well they weren’t prepared for his lack of life signs.

“Just make sure you take care of the Sl… my girl,” he yelled, as they wheeled Buffy away. “Her name is Buffy Anne Summers, an’ she’s been here before. You already have her records.”

“Sir, you need to calm down,” gentled one of the doctors. “If you can’t, we’ll have to sedate you. I understand your girlfriend’s condition has you rattled, but you have to remain strong for her.”

Mindful of the gloopy mess dripping from him, the doctor shepherded Spike towards the patients’ showers and handed him a spare set of blue scrubs. “I’m afraid your clothes will have to be burnt, Sir. Nothing on this earth is going to get all that… well, let’s just say they’re ruined.” She tried to be tactful and not remind the man that he was covered in his girlfriend’s blood.

“I’d suggest you wear both pair of pants.” She smiled, explaining that hospital scrubs didn’t provide much by way of cover and they didn’t have any spare shorts.

With a small grimace that could barely be mistaken for a smile and a tilt of his head, the exhausted vampire headed into the showers, more than eager to scrape the drying blood from his body.

Spike shucked off his boots and skinned out of his ruined clothes; dumping them in the trash after he’d emptied his pockets. He placed his things and the scrubs in a locker, and turned on the water as hot as it would go. He was grateful for the soap and shampoo, even if it was the antibacterial kind that stung his finely tuned vampire senses. Anything that dulled the scent of Buffy’s blood was a blessing.

The vampire had to admit that both pair of scrubpants were a necessary nod to common decency if he had to be around other people. “What has she done to me?” he whispered to the empty room as he toweled his hair dry. 

He walked swiftly to the nurses’ station for news of Buffy’s condition and to ask for the phone. As much as he hated having anything to do with the wanker, Giles had to be notified about his Slayer’s situation.

The same doctor who’d been kind enough to give him the scrubs, led Spike to a waiting room and insisted he sit down. “What’s your name, Sir?”

“M’name’s William, but you can call me Spike, Doc... Norris, is it?” he asked, reading the identification tag around her neck. “Now tell me what’s the what with m’girl.”

“Well, it’s not good, Wi… Spike,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. This was never an easy thing… telling the friend or relative that their loved one might not make it. And this had an added edge to it.

“Now, I must be honest with you. Several of the triage doctors who attended Miss Summers have suggested we call in the police and hold you here as a suspect until they arrive. She has several depressed skull fractures, severe injuries to her internal organs, broken ribs, broken limbs… it’s as if someone systematically took a baseball bat and beat the girl to within an inch of her life.”

At the look in Spike’s eyes, Doctor Norris edged backwards, wary of the anger she could feel roiling around the man. “You have to admit it looks pretty suspicious that you don’t have a scratch on you, and she’s a mess.”

Spike kept a tight leash on his demon, knowing if he gave it free reign he’d never be allowed near Buffy again. “Listen to me closely, Doc. I found m’girl in the middle of Shady Hill Cemetery, bein’ beaten by a gang of at least six thugs. I tussled some with a couple of ‘em. S’why I was covered with mud an’… By the time I got close enough to see Buffy lying on the ground, the wankers had run off. M’not going anywhere until Buffy tells me to leave, herself.”

Sue Norris knew people, amongst other things, and could tell this one was just barely holding on. One more push would tell the tale. “And just what was this girl doing in the middle of a cemetery; alone in the wee hours of the morning?”

He hung his head, all the fight going out of him. “Our… families don’t approve of us seein’ one another. She was comin’ to see me, an’ I was late.” Spike dropped his head into his hands and began to cry. “Bloody hell, I was too late.”

The doctor relaxed. _That’s better than a sharp fang in the neck_. “Spike, look at me. I know what… _who_ you are. Not all of Sunnydale is blind.”

Expecting the sharp end of a stake, Spike looked up – torn between the urge to flee and stay – and waited for fate to do as it would.

“I’m not a fool, Spike. I suspected the vampire issue when you fought against being examined. Anyone as pale as you should have been on the floor from blood loss.”

“An’ you still helped me?” The disdain in his voice was clear. “What are you, another vampire groupie?”

The wooden stake now poking into his side told him otherwise.

“Look, Doc… m’manners aren’t what they should be. I’m worried about Buffy… an’ I need to call her family.”

Doctor Norris removed the stake, tucking it away in a hidden pocket of her lab coat. “If you’re talking about a Mr. Rupert Giles, he’s already been called. His name is listed as next of kin on her file.”

_Balls._

As if on cue, Giles strode towards the nurses station, demanding news of Buffy’s condition. He was pointed in Dr. Norris’ direction. The look on his face was thunderous as he approached.

“Spike,” he spat, vehemently. “I should have known you were involved somehow. If you’ve hurt her in any way…”

“Mr. Giles! Please remember this is a hospital,” the doctor chastised. “Don’t you think your son has been through enough already?”

Giles looked ready to burst from the assumption, staring daggers at Spike.

The blond vampire just shrugged. “Told them we didn’t see eye-to-eye on things, Pops.”

Realizing the two men needed to talk, Dr. Norris excused herself to go and check on Buffy.

“Awfully brave of you, Rupes. Comin’ without your little band of Scooby protectors.”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone, and I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily, you prat,” Giles fumed. “Where the hell were you and why didn’t you protect Buffy?”

“You right bastard,” Spike hissed. “Who the bloody hell was it that talked the Slayer into ditchin’ me from her patrol? Daft cow changed her route an’ it took me over an hour to find ‘er.” His anger deflated as he recalled the sight of the demons brutalizing the girl. “Like I’d listen to anything you wankers have to say. Slayer or not, eight Ognir require more’n one person to take ‘em out.”

Before the man could react to Spike’s revelation, the doors leading to the surgery wing opened, and Dr. Norris approached.

“I’m sorry gentlemen. Ms. Summers survived her surgeries, but has slipped into a coma. She’s not expected to survive.”


	2. Absent Without Leave

**The Body – Chapter 2 – Absent Without Leave**

Stunned into speechlessness, it took Giles a moment to get his bearings. He stood, facing Dr. Norris, and calmly began to try and reason with her.

“Dr. Norris, I’m quite sure you’re excellent at your job, but you don’t know Ms. Summers. She’s a remarkable young woman, and she tends to have a rather… _fast_ metabolism. She’ll heal from things rather quickly and leave you to wonder how --”

Spike tried to get his attention; however, Giles was too focused on his own emotions to notice.

Dr. Norris looked vaguely amused. “I have read her records, Mr. Giles. She is, indeed, phenomenal. That she was alive at all when her boyfriend brought her in…”

 _"That_ is not her boyfriend,” Giles spat, stabbing a finger in the vampire’s general direction. “You have no idea how evil that creature is. You must get him out of here and post security around Ms. Summers’ room immediately.”

The doctor’s amusement faded quickly. “Do I need to remind you to keep your voice down? I threatened Spike with sedation earlier, and I have no qualms about doing the same to you.” She looked at him sternly, yet with a little pity. “I know exactly who and what Spike is; after all, he’s a vampire of some renown. As for Ms. Summers being special… I know that from personal experience. She saved my life several months ago during a vampire attack on the hospital’s blood delivery.”

“That was you?” Spike couldn’t contain his surprise. He’d been with Buffy when they broke up the attack on the delivery. Of course he’d nicked a couple of bags for his own use, trying to remind himself he was still evil after all.

“That’s part of the reason you’re still walking around. Otherwise you’d have been a pile of ashy sludge in the showers.” The doctor winked at the outrage that flitted across his face. “Trust me, Spike… you were in no condition to defend yourself when you brought the girl in. And just for the record, she’s the other reason you’re still here.”

Giles fumed, glaring at Spike. “What is it with you that turns women into mindless…”

And with that, Dr. Norris had had enough. “If you finish that sentence, I’ll have you tossed out on your bloody British ass and kept out, Mr. Giles. If it weren’t for Spike, your precious Slayer would already be dead.” She held up a hand to keep him from speaking. “As to the important issue -- Ms. Summers’ condition --”

“When can I see her, Doc?” Spike asked softly, ignoring Giles altogether.

“Not right now. She’s in recovery. She’ll be moved to ICU within the next few hours if she stabilizes. If she survives the night, you might be able to see her for a few minutes in the morning.”

“Lucky for us you won’t be around in the morning, Spike. Nothing like all that sunshine to clear away the pests.” Giles taunted, fully expecting to agitate the vampire into getting himself thrown out of the hospital.

“For the man who saved Ms. Summers from the gang of whatever they were, I’ll provide one very dark doctor’s lounge for the daylight hours. There are also no windows in ICU, so if it’s feasible, he can see her in the morning,” Dr. Norris snapped. “Mind your manners, Mr. Giles.”

She turned to leave the small waiting room. “Gentlemen, I trust I can go check on Ms. Summers without worrying about death or destruction in my absence?” She looked from man to man, assessing the wisdom of leaving them unsupervised. “I’ll be back as soon as I have some news to report.”

As the door closed behind her, Giles fumed, incensed by the doctor’s free and easy treatment of Spike. _He_ was listed as Buffy’s next of kin. _He_ was the Slayer’s Watcher. And how dare that foul beast presume to have a place in her…

 _Blast!_ Wasn’t that the kind of thinking that had caused his Slayer to go up against eight… what did he say? ah, yes… eight Ognir demons by herself? Dear lord, the poor girl had never had a chance with those odds. If she died, her blood was on his hands. He’d been the one to finally get Buffy to push the vampire away.

“May God strike me for the words about to fall from my lips, Spike, and you can be fairly sure you’ll never hear them from me again… but thank you for getting Buffy to the hospital.” Giles felt the words fairly stick in his craw, but he forced himself to do this. “Perhaps it’s best to call a truce until we’ve seen Buffy in the morning.”

Spike shrugged. “I’m not the one ‘causin’ trouble, Rupert.”

Again, it grated, but Giles had to admit: “No, indeed, you’re not. I’m afraid I let my worry over Buffy get the better of me.”

Both men slumped back into the hard plastic chairs, neither one looking directly at the other. And there they stayed, stubborn in their patience. Several hours ticked by with no word from Dr. Norris. At last, the silence was oppressive enough to loosen Giles’ tongue.

“I suppose your bloody persistence actually worked in our favor this time,” he offered, realizing he wasn’t exactly being polite. It was, however, far more pleasant than anything he usually said to the vampire.

A sure sign of boredom displayed itself with Spike actually answering back. “Not like I actually listen to you tossers. Should’ve just followed the silly cow from the beginning like I wanted to.” He swung his legs back and forth like a petulant little boy; with a pout adding to the illusion.

Giles gestured to the scrub pants that he wore. “Not your usual attire, Spike. Were you planning on sneaking in to see Buffy?”

“What do you think I looked like after dismemberin’ four Ognir demons, you stupid git? Was covered head to toe in brown blood an’ guts, not to mention what drained from…” The vampire shuddered at the memory of Buffy’s lifeblood soaking into his clothing in amounts large enough to drip from the sodden fabric. “Bad enough that I had to toss the kit and scrub the smell of Slayer from my skin.” He shivered. “First time in my unlife the smell of blood made me sick to my stomach,” he admitted softly. “First and only time.”

From the look on the Watcher’s face, he could feel the next question coming. “If you even come close to voicing the words, old man… I’ll find some way around this chip to kill you. You know how I feel about the Slayer. You won’t admit I do, but you know it even so.”

Giles had the good graces to look embarrassed. Sometimes the Watcher in him precluded any human decency -- and wasn’t that the oddest thought when dealing with a vampire? To wonder how the Slayer of Slayers could resist the lure of so much Slayer’s blood… despite himself, he found it rather remarkable and revolting at the same time.

The question answered itself, if he allowed himself to believe the obvious – if unappealing - answer. Spike had been able to resist for one reason, and one reason only; it was Buffy. Not the Slayer, but the girl, herself. He truly _must_ care for her in his own twisted way.

Again, he lapsed into quietness. The silence grew deeper, and the clock ticking the minutes by on the wall seemed to echoed louder and louder in the little room. And as time passed with no further news forthcoming, both men fell into a light sleep.

***

They were awakened several hours later with a tap to the shoulder from a grim-faced Dr. Norris. “Time to wake up, gentlemen.”

They sat upright, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “Doc?” Spike asked, groggily. “Buffy, is she…”

“I want you both awake for this.” Dr. Norris shoved her hands in her pockets, waiting for Giles to finish cleaning his sleep-smudged glasses. Once she was sure she had their full attention, she began to speak bluntly:

“The good news, gentlemen, is that Ms. Summers is still with us. The bad news is that we almost lost her several times during the night. She’s had several seizures. If she does pull through by some miracle, there’s almost a certainty of brain damage due to severe head trauma. We’ve repaired the depressed skull fractures to the best of our ability. Again, if she pulls through, we may need to go back in and insert metal plating to protect her brain where the fractures were, since the skull doesn’t regenerate.”

Giles paled as the litany of her injuries went on and on. Under conditions such as these, what would be the Council’s policy? If they were to find out about her condition, would they order the cessation of all extraordinary measures to keep the girl alive without any guarantee that she’d return to fighting form?

The Slayer line no longer ran through Buffy. Whether she lived or died would have no consequences other than leaving the world only temporarily unprotected. Certainly, Faith would quickly be murdered in jail to allow another Slayer to rise. One who would be more malleable to the Council’s whims, no doubt...

Spike recovered from the shock first. “So, can we go an’ see the girl? That’s what we’ve been waitin’ all night for.”

“Only for a minute. And I do mean a minute. Got that?”

When both men nodded, Sue Norris led the way, carefully avoiding the sunlight filtering in from the windows along the corridor to Intensive Care. She opened the door to room 17, unaware of the irony inherent in the number, and stepped out of the way to allow the men entry.

The sight that greeted their eyes stole Giles’ breath and caused Spike to stumble. Buffy lay in the center of her hospital bed, looking woefully tiny and as pale as the sheets she lay on. Blinking lights and beeping machines filled the room, registering everything from heart rate and blood pressure to urinary output. IV bags of saline, antibiotics, pain-killers, and blood hung on a moveable pole, with needles jabbed into several spots in the crook of her left elbow. Her right arm was in a plaster cast from above the elbow to her knuckles; both legs also bore casts from mid-thigh to toes.

The worst invasion of her person was the respirator hose secured in place by strips of white tape over her mouth. Her eyes were swollen shut; bruised and jagged scabs ran down the right side of her face, indicating that she’d been clawed.

Giles felt as if he’d been punched in the guts. His girl could have died… should have died, and it was partly his fault. Spike was no guarantee that Buffy would survive forever, but she’d never been so badly hurt when he’d been out on patrol with her.

Spike’s shock lasted only a moment before he pushed past the Watcher and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, mindful of all Buffy’s wires and tubes. He slid his fingers under her left hand, which was in relatively pristine condition, save for her ragged, torn nails.

“Poor lamb,” he soothed. “You’d have a fit over the state of your manicure.” He stroked his fingers gently over the back of her hand, Spike was careful not to dislodge her heart monitor. “Come back to us, luv. Little sis loves you, and your Watcher ‘ll have nothin’ to do but bury his nose in his books without you. Wake up an’ I promise you the salon nails of your dreams. You can even do mine. Fancy the Big Bad’s in Niblet’s Princess Pink. That ought to wake you up with giggling.”

Giles snapped out of his shock at last, and, alarmed, hissed: “Spike! Get away from her.”

Dr. Norris laid a hand on his shoulder, preventing the older man from pulling Spike away from Buffy. “Spike’s fine where he is, Mr. Giles. He’s not disturbing the wires or tubes, and coma patients have been known to hear people talking even though they’re unable to respond. Familiar voices and physical contact are a good thing.”

Giles passed a weary hand in front of his face. “I-I’m sorry, Dr. Norris. I’m sure Spike has told you we’ve had our differences. She deserves more than him, and it’s not always easy for me to keep my own council, especially when I’m this worried about her.”

She regarded him skeptically. “Is that a fact? Well, you’ll both have to leave in a moment anyway. Ms. Summers needs to rest, I’m sure you have other people to call and Spike… I’m sure he needs to feed and lie down before he passes out. Looks like he’s running on fumes.”

Sure enough, there were purple smudges under the vampire’s eyes, and his hands were shaking. It had been a rough night for everyone involved, and him especially.

The vampire placed a kiss on Buffy’s forehead near her hairline; the only unbruised place he could find, and left the room without another word.

After Giles said his goodbyes, he found the vampire leaning against the wall, wiping furiously at his eyes. “Not a word, Rupert. Not a bleedin’ word from you.” With a sniffle, he turned to the doctor. “You said there was a place I could rest? Then lead the way, Doc.” He laughed grimly. “I’m dead on m’feet.”


	3. Night and Day

**The Body – Chapter 3 – Night and Day**

Dr. Norris pulled the curtains around Spike’s cot, pinning a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside. It wouldn’t do to have someone attempt to wake him up and find no life signs. Having her guest hauled off to the morgue would not be a good thing.

Spike drifted towards sleep with only the knowledge that Buffy had survived the first night for comfort. Girl was an utter wreck. It wasn’t her battered looks that unnerved him… she could have one eye, no hair and gain thirty pounds and still turn him on. Her looks were just window dressing. What distressed him was the sight of her lying there, paler than any vampire, and still as a corpse. _His_ Buffy was vibrant and full of piss and vinegar… especially when punching him in the nose. Lately though…

He shook his head, wiping away the last of his tears and finally passed out from exhaustion.

***

Giles looked up from his seat to see Xander, Willow, Tara, and Dawn enter the waiting room, panic evident on every face.

“All right, G-man. We’re here and we’re worried and nobody at the desk will tell us anything at all.” Xander threw his hands in the air. “What the hell’s happened to Buffy?”

Dawn sat down next to Giles and took the man’s hands into hers. “I-is Buffy gonna be okay? Please tell me she’s gonna be okay. Giles… I just lost Mom. I can’t lose Buffy, too.”

“Maybe she lost her Slaying powers,” Willow added. “I mean there’s no way she could have been beaten by a couple of puny vamps or demons.”

“Unless she was ambushed,” ventured Tara. “I-I mean, it’s why she always goes out with back-up. A-an extra set of eyes is always a good thing.”

Giles swallowed hard; the guilt overwhelming him. “Why don’t we see if at least Dawn can get in to see her sister? Intensive Care has very strict visiting rules.”

Halfway to the nursing station they were met by Dr. Norris, who introduced herself as the head of the team of doctors on Buffy’s case. Only Dawn would be allowed to see Buffy for the time being, and the doctor promised to stop by the waiting room before she left to let them know of her condition.

“I can’t tell you not to worry,” she said to Dawn. “Your sister’s condition is very, very grave. However, the very fact that she’s made it through the night is a testament to her strength and gives us all hope for her further recovery.”

As they walked towards room 17, Dawn hesitated. “How did Buffy get to the hospital? I mean, ambulances usually don’t pick up patients in…” 

“If you were going to say cemeteries, don’t worry honey. I know about your sister, and Spike brought her in. Thanks to him, she has a chance at surviving.”

Dawn was floored. “You’re telling me you know Buffy’s a-a- and Spike’s a --.”

“Yes, Dawn. I do. Spike and Buffy were responsible for saving my life during a vampire attack not all that long ago. Like I told Spike, not everyone in Sunnydale is blind.”

As they stood in front of Buffy’s room, Dr. Norris tried to prepare the girl for what she would see. “It’s not pretty, Dawn. Buffy was beaten badly and had multiple surgeries last night. Her condition is critical, but stable at the moment. Don’t be afraid of all the machines and their noises. Each one tells us something vital about your sister.”

“I-is she in pain?”

“Buffy is in a coma. She’s also hooked up to IV’s that give her a constant source of pain medication. We believe she’s as comfortable as humanly possible for someone in her condition,” the doctor gentled. “Don’t be afraid to talk to your sister, or touch her where she’s uninjured. We never know exactly what coma patients can hear. Are you ready to see your sister now?”

Dawn took a steadying breath and walked into the room. If Dr. Norris hadn’t been standing right behind her, the shaken girl would have crumpled to the floor as her knees buckled at the sight of her sister. She calmed herself enough to shake off the doctor’s hands, and brought a chair to Buffy’s bedside.

“I-I’m here, Buffy. Giles called and said you’d been hurt, and we all came to see you,” she whispered. “He never told us it was this… Anyway, the doctor said you might be able to hear me, so I’m just gonna talk as long as they let me stay.” Dawn’s voice gained strength the longer she spoke, willing herself to be heard over the sounds of the machines. “I guess it doesn’t seem like it, what with you being so hurt and all, but you’re really lucky you had Spike with you. I _told_ you he cared about you. He got you to the hospital in time to save your life.”

Her fingers were drawn to the same unblemished hand that Spike had held several hours earlier. “Oh, Buffy,” Dawn sobbed, unable to hold back her tears any longer. “You’ve got to get better. I can’t lose you, too. It’s too much. First Mom, and if you… if you… where would I go? Dad doesn’t want me, and…”

A technician’s hand on her shoulder stilled her tears. Dawn kissed her sister’s hand before she ran from the room, headed to the sanctuary of the waiting room and her makeshift family. As she walked down the corridor trying to compose her words to convey her sister’s condition, Dawn heard voices coming from the waiting room.

“You’re telling me that bleached freak had something to do with Buffy’s winding up in the hospital?” Xander was furious. “Giles, I thought we had this taken care of. You told me that Buffy wouldn’t patrol with that… that… _thing_ anymore.”

Giles tried to calm the boy down before the situation got out of hand. “Look, Xander, I said Spike got Buffy to the hospital. He wasn’t patrolling with her, which is why she ended up in such dire straits in the first place.”

“Everyone needs to get this straight because I’m tired of having to justify his actions.” Dr. Norris looked around at the youngsters who had joined Giles. Anger warred with worry on their faces. “Whatever your argument is with Spike, you need to drop it. That vampire saved your friend and Slayer. That’s the bottom line. Trying to keep them apart damn near killed her. Get over it and move on, kids.”

“I-is it t-true, Giles?” Tara asked, looking at her friends over her shoulder. “Are we responsible for Buffy’s getting hurt?”

“We can’t say for sure, Tara… but without Spike to watch her back, Buffy never stood a chance with the demons she encountered last night.”

With a heartrending cry, Dawn stormed into the little room. “M-murderers!” she shrieked. “If Buffy dies it’ll be on your hands. Y-you know Spike helps her patrol. He loves her. No matter what you say about vampires being unable to love, _he_ does. Spike would have kept her safe,” she insisted.

“C’mon, Dawnie. You need to calm down. Getting this upset isn’t going to help Buffy.” Willow led the teenager to a chair and pushed her hair back behind her ears. “We’re all doing the best we can, and it isn’t possible to protect anyone all the time. Even a Slayer.”

With a snort, Dawn pushed the redhead away. “Are you part of this? Are you one of the people who made my sister go out all alone to fight against vampires and demons when she had someone willing to help her?”

No words were necessary; Willow’s guilty look was enough.

Facing Dr. Norris, the teenager asked: “Where is Spike? Why isn’t he here?”

“He’s sleeping in the doctors’ lounge. He was exhausted from fighting before he brought your sister in, and from the wait to see her a few hours ago.”

“I knew he wouldn’t just leave her. And… and… h-he’ll be worried about me. I need to see him.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Dawn.” Giles interrupted before Dr. Norris could lead the girl to the lounge. “You still have school. I’m sure your sister would want you to keep up as normal a life as possible while she gets better.”

“ _You’re_ sure? You’re sure? Like I’m supposed to believe anything you say?” Dawn burst into tears. “I saw what your being sure did to Buffy. She’s lying in that bed hooked up to a machine that breathes for her. She’s got tubes and wires and needles in her all because you were _sure_ she’d be better off without Spike on patrol.”

Dr. Norris decided enough was enough. “That’s it, folks. Time for everyone to go home. Nobody else will be allowed in ICU today except Buffy’s sister. My shift has ended and I’ll stay with her until Spike wakes up in the doctor’s lounge. Between us, we’ll make sure Dawn gets back home.”

Giles was infuriated once again at the doctor’s seemingly reverential treatment of the vampire, not to mention her sticking her nose in family business. “Now see here, Dr. Norris. You might make the rules here in the hospital, but you have no say over a minor child…”

“You may be listed as Buffy’s next of kin, but you’re not listed as Dawn’s. If she doesn’t want to go with you, she’s perfectly free not to do so.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at her sister’s friends and Watcher, and, feeling utterly betrayed on her behalf, let them know it. “I wouldn’t follow any of you out of a burning building right now,” Dawn spat, and followed Dr. Norris to the lounge.

Spike awoke several hours later, finding Dawn crying silently in the cot next to his. His hesitation in reaching out to comfort the girl was overcome when she flung herself into his arms, sobbing for all she was worth.

Spike accompanied Dawn to see Buffy once more before Dr. Norris took her home. The vampire was relaxed and easy with Buffy, talking to her as he did before. It put Dawn at more at ease than she’d been before as she spoke to her sister again.

“Thanks, Spike,” she murmured as they left the room. “I know it’s bad. Real bad. But she has a chance ‘cause you brought her here.”

“I’d do anythin’ for her, Niblet, and that includes watchin’ out for you. You need to go home and work things out with the Watcher and the rest.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’ Bit. Bad as it turned out, they meant well. And let’s face it; a vampire’s not fit for raising a kid on his own.”

Giving in to the inevitable, Dawn gave him one last hug, and allowed the good doctor to drive her back home.

Spike realized he was falling hard for the littlest Summers. _His girls!_ He’d do anything to protect them.

***

Several weeks had passed and the changes in Buffy’s appearance were remarkable. The swelling and bruises are all gone. All that remained on her face to show of her ordeal were the faint pink scars from the Ognir’s claws. Eventually those would vanish, as well.

MRI’s showed that her bones had set properly and re-knit. The casts were removed, making Buffy seem even smaller. Her brainwave patterns hadn’t altered since the initial surgeries. Strong and steady, but she remained comatose.

For three weeks Buffy’s group of visitors was constant. Giles, Xander, Willow, Tara and Dawn were there twice a day without fail. Visits were staggered so there were no problems being allowed to see her. They’d tried to reach her father, without success. He never bothered answering the messages they’d left. There was also no sign of Spike, though even Dawn seemed too preoccupied to notice.

On the one month anniversary of Buffy’s admittance, her respirator was removed. Miraculously, she began to breathe on her own. The hospital staff broke into spontaneous cheers. Moving Buffy down to a private room on a regular floor was the highlight of their day.

By the sixth week, though, Buffy’s hospitalization had begun to take its toll. Xander was the first of the Scoobies to cut back on his visitations. Anya was unhappy that he was spending all of his spare time sitting at the bedside of a woman who wasn’t her; making the argument that he would be notified if she came to and they would both go and visit.

Willow and Tara cut down their visits to once a week. School schedules had picked up again, and the women had to focus on things that were within their power to change.

Giles and Dawn had mended their fences by agreeing to not mention Spike at all. Buffy’s incapacitation has been hardest of all on them. Dawn came every day after school, doing her homework to Buffy’s favorite music played on a portable boom box. Every once in awhile one of Spike’s favorite CD’s would show up: The Ramones, Dead Kennedys… Giles had no clue, but it made Dawn’s face light up. She knew they hadn’t been abandoned.

Buffy’s third month in the hospital found everyone gathered in the waiting room once again for a meeting with Dr. Norris, including Spike. The room was split predictably into two camps: Spike and Dawn on one side, Giles and everybody else on the other.

When the doctor walked into the room, she could sense the hostility building. She knew what she had to say would make it worse, but there was no way around it.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I need your full attention. We have a lot to discuss this evening, and it’s not going to be easy for anyone. I’d appreciate you all holding your personal feuds for another time and place.”

Looking around the room, she noticed Dawn being held in the vampire’s protective embrace. She already feared the worst. Best get this over with as soon as possible.

“You’ve all seen Buffy’s physical appearance improve over the past three months. Her broken bones have healed, her skull has remarkably pieced itself together enough that she doesn’t need metal plating. Her breathing is strong and steady. With a little care and attention, she can spend her remaining time in her own home.”

Dawn was shaken by the news. They were going to send her sister home to die. “There’s no hope for her, is there?” she whispered. “No chance that she’ll come back to me?”

The doctor sat down next to the crying teenager, taking her hands into her own. “I’m sorry, Dawn. Medical science has done all it can for your sister. She could continue in this state for another week, or for years. There’s no way to tell. Either way, the hospital will be unable to keep her. The bed is needed for other patients.”

Giles stood and walked over to the distraught girl. “Perhaps it’s time to consider placing your sister in a hospice, dear. Somewhere she’ll be cared for around the clock until… until…”

“You must be mad, Rupert. You’re talking of putting the Slayer away in a hole somewhere to die out of sight of everyone she ever loved?” Spike stood, shoving the older man backwards and wincing from the chip’s reaction. “If Buffy has to die, she deserves the right to die in her own bed. She’s earned it. Most Slayers don’t get that dignity.”

“Something you should know about, eh, Spike?” Giles said coldly. “You’ve killed two of them yourself. Took them away from their families and loved ones.”

“You right bastard! We’re standin’ here, discussing the life of your Slayer an’ you’re bringin’ up a past I can’t change. I know what I did, and I know what I’m doing now. Two different things, old man. I’m tryin’ my best to work with you. Most important thing to consider is the bit, here. Dawn is her sister. She should have somethin’ to say about where Buffy ends up.”

Xander pushed his way into the argument. “You talk big, Junior. Yeah, Buffy deserves to go home. Oddly enough I agree with you. But nobody is qualified to care for her twenty-four/seven and we can’t afford the private duty nurse.” Turning to Giles, he asked: “Slaying doesn’t have an insurance policy to cover terminal care, does it G-man?”

Dawn’s gasp caught everyone’s attention.

“God, Xander, can’t you have a little more tact?” Willow chided. “Dawn is sitting right there and you’re talking about her sister like she’s a problem.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, really.” Anya had her own solution, and for a change, she wasn’t going to keep quiet. “Spike’s so interested in letting Buffy go home, why doesn’t he take care of her?”

“Ahn!” Xander yelped. “Are you insane? Letting that… pervert touch Buffy all over, and bathe her and deal with personal fluids and everything?”

“I don’t see why not,” she sniffed. “And you’ve given way too much thought to Buffy’s personal needs. Were you planning on doing it yourself?”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Dawn stomped her foot on the floor, trying to get everyone’s attention. “You’re all talking about Buffy like she’s a burden… nothing more than a body to be turned and washed and wiped down. She’s my sister! I love her more than anyone. She’s all I have left of my family and I want her home. With me!”

Not caring about anyone else in the room, Spike drew the girl into his arms. “It’ll be all right, Niblet. I promise. I’m sure I can talk one of the nurses into helpin’ out. I’ll just turn on the old Spike charm, and they’ll be trippin’ over themselves to take care of big sis.”

“This is ludicrous, Spike,” Giles scoffed. “You’re not capable of taking care of a goldfish, much less the needs of a comatose human. And in a month, when your insane desire to play undead nurse wanes, where will Buffy be?”

Spike threw his hands up in frustration. “I give up on the whole bloody lot of you. I gave my promise to always watch her back, and will do – no matter what. Short of stakin’ me, I’m not leavin’ her side again.”

He stormed out, flanked by Dawn and followed by Dr. Norris.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel a need to go and see Buffy.” Willow hung her head with embarrassment. “I-I haven’t spent nearly as much time with her as I should. If we have to make a decision about her care, I think it should be in her presence.”

Not another word was spoken as they walked down the corridor to the bank of elevators that would take them to Buffy’s floor.

Nobody stopped them as they made their way to her room. All the day shifts were familiar with Buffy’s visitors.

The sight of her in bed from the doorway always hit them hard. With the covers pulled up to her chest, Buffy looked like she was asleep and the urge to shake her gently was hard to restrain. It was when you got up close that the differences began to make themselves known. Buffy’s weight loss was obvious, and her once flawless skin was dry and ashy. Her muscle tone had suffered and her limbs were slack. Her beautiful hair was dull and snarled, despite the evidence that someone had tried to care for it.

It was more than her friends could take. They huddled in the far corner of her room, grateful for the distraction when a technician came in to check the machines monitoring her life signs.

“This girl must have been someone very special,” the tech said, stroking Buffy’s hair gently as she read the LED displays. “I’ve never seen such a devoted boyfriend. All night, every night he stays with her.”

“W-what are you talking about?” demanded Giles. “She has no boyfriend,” he said with wavering conviction and a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Must be a boyfriend, honey. You know, that blond cutie that brought her in? Been here every night since. He’s practically taken over caring for her after visiting hours. William’s the darling of the night shift. He gets really pissy when he feels someone’s falling down on the job of caring for his girl.” The tech finished adjusting the displays and marking down the readouts and left the room, leaving a roomful of stunned people behind in her wake.

“E-every n-night? He’s been here every night?” Willow was flustered that a soulless demon showed more attention to her best friend than she did. “I thought for sure he’d eventually just give up and walk away when she didn’t get better.”

“You mean like you did? And everyone else?” Dawn’s disdain cut through the air like a knife as she walked into her sister’s room. “When Spike cares about someone, he doesn’t abandon them. Not even when things get hard.” With vicious glee, the teenager informed them that Buffy was coming home. Dr. Norris and a few of the nursing staff were going to help settle her sister into a routine.”

“And Spike’s staying, too. Buffy needs him,” was her parting shot, as she headed back to the nurses’ station to make the final arrangements for her sister’s release.


	4. There's No Place Like Home

**The Body – Chapter 4 – There’s No Place Like Home**

Full of teenaged fury and taking advantage of the pity factor, Dawn bullied Xander into making the basement livable for Spike: boarding up the windows, setting up a cot and making some drawer space and clearing the floor as much as possible.

She claimed it was only fair. After all, it was thanks to Spike’s intimate association with the medical staff that made Buffy’s homecoming possible in the first place.

Sue Norris picked out a team of volunteers that would help with Buffy’s transition from the hospital to her home. Deirdre Allen, an exceptional nurse, good with young women, having three teenaged daughters of her own, Lynette Marcus, trained in physical therapy, as well as an advocate for homecare. The last one, Becky Levin, wasn’t a nurse, just a volunteer – a mother who’d recently lost her only daughter to a vampire attack. She jumped at the chance to help Buffy and Dawn.

Becky proved to be an absolute blessing. She shopped once a week with money that miraculously appeared in the Summers’ cookie jar – Joyce’s old mad money hiding place. At the same time, she insisted that Dawn help with the housecleaning and laundry. After all, she wasn’t there to be a maid.

Lynette worked with Spike on Buffy’s personal care. Since she was the only patient, they could finally lavish her with the attention and time that she needed. Soon after arriving home, Buffy was given her first tub bath since her attack, filled with unscented bath oil was used to ease the dryness of her skin. Spike then held her out of the tub so Lynette could wash and condition her hair, using fresh water.

Once she was re-settled into her bed and toweled dry, Lynette began to work on a combination of exercises and skin treatment. Using massage oil, she taught Spike how to work the muscle groups in arms and legs that had begun to atrophy from disuse. It was a painstaking task, but as Spike said, he had nothing but time.

The nurse’s next task was demonstrating the insertion and maintenance of the urinary catheter. Not that Spike was squeamish or unable to seat it properly, but the catheter was going to be the first thing he got rid of once the nursing staff was gone. He’d rather deal with those adult nappies if it wasn’t a health issue.

Also, as might be guessed, Spike also had no trouble finding a vein for the IV feeding tube. He did, however, pay close attention to the most comfortable spots and the schedule for changing sites.

***

As for Dawn, she was absolutely thrilled to have her sister home. She couldn’t abide the hospital’s stark nature and smells or the caring, but brusque treatment given to Buffy. Home at last, the teenager could talk freely and hug her sister at will.

When Dawn got the weepies, she would run to Deirdre. On her broad shoulders, she ranted and raved about the unfairness of it all. Bemoaned the loss of her mother. Cried over all the harsh words she’d ever said to her sister. Railed about her absentee father and being left alone to fend for herself.

But when she needed comforting, Dawn wound up with Spike. She would pull every single photo album out, and they would sit and pore through them, picture by picture. It brought her security and a sense of family when she told all the stories behind it to her vampire “brother”.

Oh, she knew Spike would prefer to spend his time with Buffy. He could be as single minded as she’d been warned when focused on a goal. Dawn was thrilled and grateful that he chose to take time off from sister duty – that he’d arranged for it whenever one of the volunteer staff was in residence – to make sure Buffy’s little sister was okay.

Dawn liked to think that their time together was good for the vampire, as well. He needed to laugh and joke around as much as she did. The Scoobies were just too somber. They walked into the house as if Buffy had already died. They wore their mourning heavily enough to bow their heads.

***

Deirdre, Becky, and Lynette all came to the house for a couple of hours each, twice a week. Dr. Norris would stop by on Sundays, spending the entire afternoon, and sharing dinner with them. All in all, the first month found the house on Revello Drive constantly bustling with activity and visitors.

The second month after Buffy’s homecoming told an entirely different tale.

Medical support was pretty much finished. Deirdre needed to spend more time with her family. Lynette assured Spike that he was fully capable of continuing with Buffy’s care alone, and left her personal pager number should he run into an emergency situation.

Pinching his cheek as she left to go home, Lynette gave him a wicked grin. “You know, Spike – anytime you decide to make an honest demon out of yourself, I’ll get you a night shift position as our token vampire phlebotomist.”

He smiled sadly as she left the house for the last time. Dawn was going to miss the motherly presence Deirdre and Lynette provided. He was forced to admit that so would he. Spike had gotten used to being treated as if he were worthwhile, and he certainly wasn’t getting that same consideration from that old gang of Buffy’s.

Dawn’s enthusiasm for life dimmed somewhat after the nursing team left, but armed with reassurances from Spike and the knowledge that she was always welcome to call or visit, she bravely soldiered on.

***

Xander couldn’t stand being in the same house with Spike and Dawn: watching their hopeful outlook day after day, knowing that Buffy’s condition remained basically unchanged. Anya finally told him that if visiting made him so unhappy, he could either get his information in a five minute conversation or just wait for someone to call him one way or the other in regards to Buffy.

In the end, he took the coward’s way out. Eventually, he stopped the phone calls as well, knowing that he would hear from Dawn when her sister finally passed away.

Giles tended to ignore Spike when he visited, speaking only to Dawn. Nearly five months in a coma and Buffy was holding on to life as tenaciously as she ever had. The Watcher in him was worried that his Slayer would turn into a wizened mass of papery skin and bones, damned near ‘outliving’ them all.

It was too cruel a fate to contemplate for such a vivacious young woman, and the urge to walk into her room and simply smother her was overwhelming. Yet he knew he’d never get past her vampire guard dog, however, and Dawn would never forgive him.

He began to stay at home, promising himself he’d go back to visit… later. Bloody coward that he was, he’d taken to drinking himself into a stupor on a nightly basis.

Willow and Tara still visited twice a week, but the length of their visits had decreased dramatically; from several hours to barely half an hour. Tara would sit with Buffy, burning sweet-smelling herbs to promote healing and restfulness, and Willow would chat with Dawn, making sure the big, bad vampire wasn’t doing anything ‘naughty’ with either of the Summers girls.

Those were the days it took all of Spike’s very limited patience not to eviscerate the redhead, irregardless of the pain it would cost him.

After the witches’ last visit, a visibly upset Dawn asked the vampire to sit with her on the couch. “I-I can’t d-do this anymore, Spike.”

“Can’t do what, pet?” Wary of the emotions rolling off his Niblet, Spike kept his hands to himself, figuring she needed her personal space to get to the crux of what was eating at her.

“I can’t stay in this house anymore,” she whimpered. “Day after day we talk to Buffy – hoping she’ll wake up – hoping she’ll come back to us. Every day she loses another little bit of herself.” Burrowing into Spike’s embrace, the teenager found the strength to tell him what she wanted. “It’s not you. I mean, I don’t want to leave because of you in any way. I just can’t watch her die.”

Spike’s heart broke at the catch in her voice. He should have known this was coming. His girl was just a youngster, after all. So much loss in her short lifetime. There was only one thing he could do for her.

He finally called Angel. 

It wasn’t a pleasant call; the elder vampire’s screaming could be heard two houses away through the receiver. To say Angel wasn’t pleased at being kept out of the loop was a massive understatement. In the end, however, he allowed Spike to get to the nuts and bolts of the situation.

And he agreed that Revello Drive wasn’t the best place for Dawn anymore. She needed to start moving on or she would be crushed when Buffy finally died. He wanted to come for her immediately, but Spike insisted that she have a week to settle her affairs in Sunnyhell, and be allowed to cut her ties to people who had all but abandoned her.

Spike listened with half an ear as his grandsire rattled on; the other half of his attention was fixed on Dawn, gauging her reaction to the plans being made on her behalf. She simply nodded her acquiescence.

When the time came, he kept his distance as Dawn said her last goodbyes to Buffy, giving her the respect and privacy to end things as she needed for the time being.

Sitting down on the bed, Dawn picked up her sister’s hand and entwined their fingers, gently. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. I-I’m not st-strong, like you,” she sniffled, wiping her tears away with her other arm. “I want to believe you’re coming back to me so much. Spike is so sure. But… but… I can’t handle it anymore. I need you to get up and yell at me. Call me a brat and tell me you’ll never forgive me for spilling nail polish on a shirt I borrowed without your permission. Anything, Buffy, Anything but the silence,” she begged in vain.

Finally, kissing Buffy on her forehead, Dawn made her peace and left the room.

***

Spike called the Scoobies and Giles together for the all important tell-all some time after noon.

“Just wanted to let you know that Dawn’s leavin’ for Los Angeles this evenin’,” he said when everyone was seated. “The Poof’s pickin’ her up to stay with him an’ his for awhile. Hopefully she’ll get to see her old man and let him know what’s up with his firstborn.”

Xander barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. “I knew you’d give her up, Fangless. You don’t have the stuff it takes to care for the living…”

Dawn cried out in distress, realizing he wasn’t counting Buffy in amongst the living.

“Nice, Harris,” Spike snarled. “I’m not givin’ her up, you bloody git. I’m givin’ her the space she needs to survive. Unlike you, who’ve already abandoned both Summers girls.”

“Oh, Dawnie,” Willow said softly and reached for the girl’s hand. “If you needed to get away from Spike, you were always welcome to stay with me and Tara. Or Xander would have put you up.”

“You must be reasonable, Spike,” Giles tried. “With Dawn gone to Angel’s care, you’ve no reason to continue with this. It’s time to let Buffy go. Let us move her to a hospice as we’d discussed earlier and you’ll be free.”

For one fleeting moment, Spike closed his eyes and thought of freedom. Freedom for Buffy’s soul only if her body ceased its imitation of life. Freedom for him to… what? That was the question. If she were to die, he’d have no reason to continue his unlife. Effectively neutered by the chip, he would be unwelcome as ever with demons or humans.

Was he keeping Buffy alive under selfish pretenses? Just busywork to make his unlife mean something? No! If he weren’t absolutely sure that she would one day return, he would let her rest in peace. She more than deserved it.

“I’m already free, Watcher,” the vampire said, rousing himself from his thoughts. “I do as I please… mostly. I know the Slay… Buffy’ll be back. I feel it in my bones. You think she’s done for, then get the hell out of here and don’t look back. And that goes for the whole lot of you. I don’t need you, and neither does Buffy.”

“That’s hardly fair, Spike.” Willow was in tears, being held gently by Tara. “We were… are her friends.”

“Fair weather lot if you ask me.” Spike scolded, knowing he was pushing things. He was tired, he was heartsick at losing Dawn to Angel no matter what the reasons, and being polite took too much effort. “Just make with your goodbyes an’ get the bloody hell out of here.”

Dawn mulishly refused to accept any parting hugs or words. Instead, she burrowed closer into Spike’s embrace, storing up his strength and affection for her imminent departure.

***

Mindful of the IV stand and line, Spike nestled Buffy back onto her bed after her bath, gently toweling her dry.

If he closed his eyes, Spike would see her healthy; his Golden Goddess. Well, at least she was his in his mind. Buffy’s skin was sun kissed and smooth, her breasts high and firm, and her bottom softly rounded. And her hair? Shampoo commercial perfection; softly waved and bouncy.

When he would open them, he’d watch his dream image fade ever so slowly into the reality of Buffy’s condition:

She lay naked on the bed, pale and totally exposed before him. She couldn’t weigh more than eighty-five pounds. Arms and legs were far too thin; no hint of the muscles he’d often been on the receiving end of.

The only good thing that came from Spike’s massages and exercises was her limbs were no longer being drawn up tight. The ligaments were relaxed and Buffy’s body was at ease.

Spike sighed. This was all too familiar to him. He’d watched Drusilla fade away before his eyes for months after Prague. He thought he’d never have to deal with anything more painful than that. How could he know he’d be so wrong?

Knowing time was running short, he rubbed her body down with moisturizer, giving Buffy a perfunctory massage and dressing her in a shift with snaps at the shoulders. No sense in giving Angel a free show. Gently cupping the back of her head, he worked through the knots in her hair, wishing he had more time.

When Angel arrived, Spike sent him up to Buffy’s room without a single word of warning. The cry of pain that rent the air brought him absolutely no pleasure, and he gave his grandsire the dignity of privacy.

The shaken vampire walked slowly down the stairs, several shades paler than normal. He sought out Spike, silently asking if there was anything he could do to make things better for her.

“You’re doin’ the best possible thing, Peaches; taking care of her most precious possession.”

Dawn ran over and hugged Spike around the neck, crying as she murmured her ‘goodbyes’, ‘I’ll miss yous’, and ‘love yous’. Picking up one of her suitcases, she followed Angel out of the door.

Angel returned a few moments later to hand Spike a large manila envelope.

“These the papers we talked about?” 

“Everything you asked for. And seeing what the situation is for myself, I might just be inclined to add a few more things to the mix.”

“No need, mate.” Spike clapped the older vampire on the back, herding him towards the door. “Fair warning… if you hurt my girl in any way, I’ll hunt you down and dump your dust in the loo.”

Angel turned before leaving to face his grandchilde. “I assume I don’t have to bother saying the same to you?” The look on Spike’s face was enough to assure him that Buffy was in the best of hands.


	5. Awakening

**The Body – Chapter 5 - Awakening**

After Dawn moved out, Spike found himself desolate. His ‘Bit had been his touchstone, the one person he could turn to when he needed a break from the constant care he lavished on Buffy. The one being he could actually help fix – or so he’d thought. With her gone, so too went the laughter, and another little piece of Joyce’s family was gone from Revello Drive. All he had left to hold on to was the firm belief that Buffy would come back. To him.

Becky showed up sporadically. She’d give Spike a hand with the housekeeping, do a little food shopping for things she knew he liked, and cooked the occasional meal. When she came by after dark, Spike took advantage of her generosity and went off on vicious patrols, often coming back covered in blood and dust. Becky never asked any questions.

Sue Norris continued her Sunday visits. Besides Becky, the good doctor was pretty much the only other human contact Spike had outside Buffy, and he grabbed onto her company with both hands. Generous to a fault, each week she brought a cooler filled with nearly outdated blood from the hospital, and all of Buffy’s medical necessities, including adult diapers. Sue had argued a catheter’s merits to make things simpler, but he refused. After her examinations, the doctor could hardly disagree… Buffy didn't know what a bed sore or a rash was. Her skin was smooth and blemish free as a fresh peach.

Buffy’s condition was assessed weekly by Dr. Norris: blood drawn, muscle tone tested, and brainwaves recorded… every bit of it taken back to the hospital for analysis. Yet after seven months, outside of a marked improvement in her physical appearance, Buffy Summers’ general condition remained unchanged.

“I have to tell you, Spike,” said Dr. Norris, after the latest examination, “I’m really impressed with the level and quality of care you’re providing.” She hesitated. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you before you were turned?”

“Human, for one,” Spike quipped, unable to stop himself. The wisecrack earned him a sharp rap to the back of his head.

“Smart ass.”

With a waggle of his eyebrows and a grin that quickly faded, Spike grew serious. “Sorry, pet. Been a while since I’ve had a good chuckle. In answer to your question, I had a couple of years of doctors’ trainin’ at London Hospital before runnin’ into m’bloody end.”

Hearing that, Sue wasn’t overly surprised, considering the skill he’d demonstrated. He seemed to have a natural affinity for caring for the injured, both spiritually and physically.

“Would you mind answering another question for me?” she asked. “For someone whose basic instincts were to tend and heal, how is it that you ended up so… so…”

“Survival, luv,” Spike said grimly. “Plain and simple. In the beginning, anyway. Between Drusilla, Angelus, and Darla, they made sure the last of William Bennett’s kindly impulses were buried under their ‘lessons’.”

Sue reached out, gently gripping the vampire’s shoulder. “It’s all right, you know. I wasn’t judging your actions. Frankly, I’m surprised you managed to survive their ‘tutelage’ to become the compassionate being you are today.”

Spike ducked his head; a shy little smile gracing his lips. “I was a good man, once.”

“And you are a good man, now,” Sue corrected. “Which leads me to ask one final question. I know you’re convinced as to the outcome of Buffy’s coma, and I’ll support you as long as you believe she’ll wake up… but I have to ask if you’ve given any thought as to when enough might be enough. Is there any point where you see yourself deciding to end this vigil?”

A quick ‘never’ almost popped out, but Spike couldn’t force the word past his lips. _Was_ there a point where he’d be willing to concede defeat and just let her rest in peace? Looking up at his friend, he answered as honestly as he could. “Dunno, pet. I just know it’s not time to give up yet.”

Sue nodded and gathered her things. She blew him a kiss as she walked out the door.

***

Dr. Norris’ words shook Spike more than he cared to think about. Would he ever finally decide that Buffy had been through enough, and wasn’t coming back? If so, how long would it take before he gave up on her recovery?

No… no. It was unthinkable. He wouldn’t give up on her. Ever.

So, given his stubborn nature, he did the one thing a betting man could have staked his life on:

Spike intensified his care.

He began to use a loofah during Buffy’s bath, rubbing vigorously enough to pinken her skin and hopefully awaken the nerve endings. He gave her full body massages several times a day; from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. There wasn’t a centimeter of Buffy that didn’t receive his loving attentions.

Remembering his time spent with Dru after Prague, Spike would sit by the headboard with Buffy pulled up flush against his naked chest – flesh against flesh – and brush her hair for hours at a time. Her scalp was always flushed when he’d finished. That pleased him enough to provoke a smile. Stimulation; that was the name of the game.

Whenever the radio or television weren’t on, Spike would talk to Buffy. Didn’t matter what he was doing, he would describe it in detail.

“Took the vacuum to your rug, Slayer. Your mum would have a fit if I let the dust bunnies breed all wild-like.”

“Gonna set up your bath now, pet. Nice and warm with some of that honey-almond bath stuff you fancy. A little frou-frou for me, but I’ll cope.”

“Here now, wake up and see reason. Aren’t you a little old to be wearing nappies, luv? Not that I don’t admire the view, but I’d love to see you in a nice pair of skintight black leather trousers.”

“C’mon, Buffy. Wake up for me,” he’d urge. “Just a little punch in the nose for old Spike. I’m beginning to think you don’t love me anymore.”

Hour after hour, the litany would go on until even Spike became sick of the sound of his own voice. When that happened, he’d turned on the stereo as loud as he could tolerate it and go about the business of straightening up the Slayer’s room.

One night, listening to a woman with a voice like a wounded angel, he actually began to listen to the words after the first few lines:

_“… All I wanted to say was 'I love you and I'm not afraid'  
Can you hear me?  
Can you feel me in your arms?_

_Holding my last breath  
Safe inside myself  
Are all my thoughts of you  
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight_

_I'll miss the winter  
A world of fragile things  
Look for me in the white forest  
Hiding in a hollow tree (come find me)  
I know you hear me  
I can taste it in your tears_

_Holding my last breath  
Safe inside myself  
Are all my thoughts of you  
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight_

_Closing your eyes to disappear  
You pray your dreams will leave you here  
But still you wake and know the truth  
No one's there_

_Say goodnight  
Don't be afraid  
Calling me, calling me as you fade to black_

_(Say goodnight...)  
Holding my last breath  
Safe inside myself  
Are all my thoughts of you  
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight_

As if under a spell, Spike found himself drawn to Buffy. He sat beside her and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Then he pulled back, half expecting – hoping – for her to awaken with a fluttering of her eyelashes.

Nothing.

He shook his head, calling himself all kinds of fool for believing in fairytale endings. “Sorry, sweetling. Was so sure that… I’d hoped that… doesn’t matter, luv. I’m not going anywhere.”

Following the pattern he’d developed since Dawn left the house, Spike slipped off his clothes, and crawled into bed behind Buffy. He gently turned her on her side, rubbing her shoulder and nuzzling into the nape of her neck as he drifted off to sleep.

***

In the middle of night, Spike was awoken by the oddest sensation: warm air, wafting across his face. Moving back slowly so as not to jar Buffy, he moved her arm…

And opened his eyes to the prettiest sight he’d seen in eight months: Buffy’s hazel eyes, looking right back at him.


	6. Bring Me to Life

**The Body – Chapter 6 – Bring Me To Life**

_‘Keep your head, Spike, and think this through. When you went to sleep, you spooned up behind the girl. When you opened your eyes, she was facing you. And her eyes were open. Bloody buggering hell, she’d done it… she’d come back.’_

He opened his eyes again, and looked at Buffy. Sure enough, she was still staring at him, her eyes holding a faint tinge of amusement. Yet she hadn’t moved again, nor had she spoken a single word. Spike worried… what kind of damage could have gone on in there?

“Buffy, pet… do you know where you are? Do you understand me?” He spoke softly and slowly, scanning for any response to his words.

He could see her trying to gather her thoughts, but she didn’t speak. She barely moved her lips. It was as if she was trying, but couldn’t figure out how.

“Luv, you’ve been sick quite awhile. I’m gonna call your doctor an’ see if we can figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Spike got out of the bed in search of the phone, and heard a short bark of sound from the bed. Buffy’s eyes were wide and she was pointing at him.

It took the vampire a few moments to realize he was parading around without a stitch of clothing. “See somethin’ you like, pet?”

When Buffy rolled her eyes, Spike’s knees buckled and he all but wept. The indefinable something that was Buffy Summers, Californian Girl was still inside the weakened shell of her body. Whether she returned to being the Slayer was something that only time would tell.

He quickly located his jeans and slipped them on, not bothering with anything else. Grabbing the phone off the dresser, he left a three word message with Dr. Norris’ service: “She’s back, Sue.”

Less than an hour had passed when the front door flew open; Sue Norris having used the key Spike had given her months ago. After staring into the eyes of the young woman she’d all but given up on, Sue turned to the grinning vampire and hugged him tightly.

“You son of a syphilitic whore,” she whispered in awe. “You really did know she’d be back, didn’t you?” 

Spike said nothing. The joy shining from his eyes, however, spoke volumes.

Shooing the vampire out of the room so she could concentrate, Dr. Norris gave Buffy as thorough an examination as possible in her home, without all the equipment she’d normally have access to. It didn’t matter. The woman was awake and alert… and a tad headstrong, as she ripped the IVs out of her arm despite Sue’s protests to wait.

She might be dangerously underweight and overly weakened, but Buffy was certainly stronger than Dr. Norris at her best.

Unable to wait outside any longer, Spike burst into the room, throwing questions like fastballs:

“How is she?”

“Why can’t she speak?”

“Can she walk?”

“Is she hungry?”

It was the last question that caused Buffy to react. Another grunt and she grabbed at her sheets, attempting to pull them around her. She tried to swing her legs off the bed to sit up, but was unable to do so. Spike was at her side in a flash.

“You hungry, kitten? Would you like me to bring you somethin’ to eat?”

Buffy’s eyes glittered with desire. She was absolutely ravenous.

“Something light, Spike,” Sue warned. “Perhaps just a scrambled egg to see how that sits.”

He was back as soon as possible with a plateful of eggs, the smell clearly intoxicating to Buffy. She followed the plate with her eyes until the vampire sat directly in front of her, fork in hand.

Buffy had a little trouble opening her mouth when she wanted to, but she wasn’t worried. She seemed to know Spike would give her as much time as she needed to get the job done.

She didn’t so much chew as swallow, but the egg slid down her throat with ease. Her stomach didn’t rebel when the first food in eight months hit bottom. In fact, she closed her eyes in ecstasy at the taste treat. Though she managed to work her way through half a plateful, Buffy shook her head regretfully when she’d had enough.

When Buffy was once again reclining against her pillows, Dr. Norris explained her speech problems. “I’d say you were experiencing something known as ‘transient aphasia’, otherwise known as ‘temporary aphasia’. It’s not uncommon after head trauma or coma episodes,” she reassured them. “The degree and length of the aphasia varies with individuals, and I would say that judging the remarkable way you’ve come through your injuries, your can expect this to last anywhere from several hours to several days.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the thought of being handicapped for so long, until she glanced at Spike.

“I know you want to be out there, quippin’ an’ stakin’, bein’ your own self right away, Slayer. It’s not gonna happen,” the vampire said, kindly. “You’ve been gone from us for eight months now, an’ even I figure it’s goin’ t’take some time for you to heal.”

At her pout, Spike laughed. “It’s not like I can feed you full of blood and watch you heal before my eyes. One of the advantages of bein’ a vampire, luv. If you’re in that much of a hurry, I could always turn you…”

The weakest little pop to his nose from Buffy’s fist rocked him like her hardest blow never had. “That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Welcome back, Slayer.”

***

Dr. Norris stayed for the rest of the afternoon, and well into the night. From what she’d already seen, the doctor knew Buffy would be giving Spike a run for his money. She’d push herself well past what her weakened body could endure, and the last thing Sue wanted was for the vampire to be rewarded for all his troubles with a cranky bitch of a patient.

She must have spoken those last words out loud, because Spike answered with: “And what makes you think Buffy wasn’t always a cranky bitch of a Slayer?”

This time he received a slight kick in the pants for his words.

Spike threw back his head and crowed. “Oh yeah!”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re insane, Spike?” Sue marveled at the glee that possessed Spike every time Buffy struck out at him. “Do you _want_ her to beat on you?”

“Ah, pet, you don’t understand,” he said. “Me an’ the Slayer’ve been beatin’ on each other for years. It’s normal for us. I’ve just spent eight months of my unlife watchin’ the chit do nothin’ but breathe. If she wants to beat on me, she’s got my blessing.”

“I’ll never understand vampires,” Sue muttered. “Nobody should enjoy being beaten.”

Out of his deep respect for the doctor, he tried again, making one final effort to be understood. “It’s like this… you have a young’un who’s a hellion. Makes you miserable with the back talk day after day. One day the bit gets sick and lays a-bed with a fever. Doesn’t sass back, doesn’t run you ragged. By the end of the first week you’re wishin’ for a bit of lip again. S’all I want… the Slayer, back to normal.”

This time, she got it, in all its beautiful simplicity.

A slight noise sounded behind them. Both turned sharply as Buffy tried to make herself understood. “P…” was all she managed to vocalize, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Not getting through to Spike, she turned to Dr. Norris and managed to repeat the sound. “P-p!” her brow wrinkling with the effort of trying to get her needs across.

“Oh!” A switch flipped on in Sue’s head. “You have to pee, Buffy? Do you want me to take you to the bathroom?”

A grateful sigh of relief escaped Buffy’s lips. She knew she was wearing a diaper, but she’d die again before she’d mess herself now that she was awake.

Carrying the featherweight Slayer in her arms, Dr. Norris looked over at Spike. “I’ll tell her,” she mouthed silently, figuring it would be easier hearing the details of her care from the doctor than from the vampire.

When Buffy was returned to her bed, she was dressed in a tank top and a pair of sleep pants, which hung loosely off her overly thin frame. She refused to look at Spike, blushing deeply every time she caught sight of him.

He wasn’t going to let her get away with acting coy. Spike sat on the bed, tilting Buffy’s crimson face up to meet his. “Now look here, Missy,” the vampire began, realizing he was taking the proverbial bull by the horns. “I’ve seen an’ touched every inch of you for months. Nothin’ I can do to change that.”

Buffy began to cry, silently at first, turning into ugly, rasping sobs. She burrowed into the crook of Spike’s neck, and wouldn’t budge for love nor money.

Wrapping his arms gently around her bony shoulders, Spike cooed and shushed, trying to calm her down. “Don’t cry, pet. I-I was good... didn’t play around. Honest,” he swore, close to the breaking point, himself.

Sue Norris laid a hand on Spike’s shoulder. This had to stop before irreparable damage was done to either of them. “Spike,” she coaxed the vampire. “You have to take a break. Go feed, or smoke, or kill something if it’s dark enough outside.” With light shoves, she urged him to get off of the bed. “Don’t come back for several hours. I’ll stay with Buffy, I promise.”

As upset as Buffy was, disentangling her from Spike was tricky business. Being careful of her fragile bones, Sue finally managed to extricate him from her grasp.

“I’ll be back later, Buffy,” he wheezed, tension making him unable to take in enough air to speak clearly. “I-I’ve got to get out of here.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, and left without looking back.

Buffy’s anguish was heartbreaking. There was so much she wanted to ask… needed to say… and no way for her to do so. Patience was never her strong suit and not knowing when she’d be able to speak or express herself was making her crazy. The thought that she’d finally driven Spike away again was the final, overwhelming straw. She closed her eyes and slipped back into oblivion.

Sue was relieved when Buffy fell into a deep sleep. It would be the best thing for her right now. That she was anywhere near being in her right mind after an eight month coma was a miracle. Once the aphasia passed, things would be easier for everyone.

***

When Spike returned to the Summers’ house, he was covered in muck and blood, much like the first time Sue laid eyes on him. His body language was relaxed; as if he’d found his center.

“That must have been a hell of a fight, Spike. You’re looking a bit worse for wear… do you need anything patched up?” Sue knew she was being overly solicitous, but it couldn’t be helped. He brought out the mother in her. Alright, sometimes the naughty, perverse mother in her… but again, that was something she kept to herself.

“Nothin’ a nice hot shower won’t fix, luv. I’m fine,” he said, raising his arms behind his head and stretching his torso until the vertebrae popped. “Ripped up a few things Sunnyhell won’t miss. Felt damned good to be movin’. How’s Buffy?”

“She’s been asleep since you left. I’d say she’s doing just fine.”

Momentary panic flashed across his face. “Are you sure she’s just…”

“Who’s the doctor here, Spike?” she joked, though it fell flat. “Yes, she’s just sleeping. The emotional overload is going wreak havoc with Buffy’s system for awhile, especially until she’s able to communicate. You’ve got to be strong enough to let her rant and rave. Most of what she says or does will be over-reacting. Can you handle that on your own?”

“Whatever she can dish out, I can take,” Spike resigned himself to a few days of sheer hell if that’s how it had to be. “As long as she’s here with me, there’s a chance to work things out, right?”

Sue nodded. “Go shower. I’ll be leaving when you’re done. Spend some time with the girl and see what happens. I’m always just a call away should either of you need me.”

A grateful nod from across the room, and Spike headed for the hottest shower he could stand.

***

Walking into Buffy’s room, a clean pair of jeans slung low on his hips and his hair a riot of towel dried curls, Spike felt like a new vampire. He’d have to do something nice for Sue… the woman had done much more than taking care of Buffy – she’d taken care of him. Reminded him of Joyce, in a way. Faced with the unbelievable, she just accepted things as they were and coped.

He sat on the edge of the bed and traced the contours of Buffy’s face in the air. Still so bloody beautiful after all she’d been through. How he wished that his biggest battle would be forcing her to eat enough to fatten her up – however, he knew full well that dealing with her friends and Dawn would by far be the more difficult. As soon as she was capable of talking, those phone calls had to be made.

With his head in his hands, trying to make sense of what was to come; he almost missed the soft whisper:

“Spike.”

It was the warmth of her fingers on his cheek that roused him. “Spike,” Buffy repeated, as if she’d been practicing in her sleep.

He smiled, kissing her fingertips. “What is it, pet? Something you want me to get for you?”

She shook her head and repeated: “Spike,” once more, before falling back to sleep.

***

Sitting in the kitchen Spike drank his blood, wondering who to call first. Should be Dawn, but that meant talking with Angel again… something he was not looking forward to. Then, of course, there was the Watcher. Giles needed… would want to know, which would lead to his calling the others and then everything would spin out of control… his control.

He knew better, of course. Buffy _wasn’t_ his. He may have been the only one not to have given up on her, but she belonged to herself. She wouldn’t cotton to being kept isolated and coddled. So, he’d have to do the right thing, wouldn’t he? He’d call Angel later in the evening, after…

_**Thud**_

Spike ran up the stairs to find Buffy sprawled on the floor, inching her way towards the bathroom. Immediately he ran to pick her up, but was stopped in his tracks by her strident cries of: “No! Me!”

Helping would only further humiliate her. So, despite how it hurt him, he stood back and watched her painfully creep like a baby learning to crawl for the first time… her knees moving forward first, then her bottom poking into the air… followed by her arms shuffling forward and her lower half following suit.

A half hour later, despite his best intentions, after listening to her grunt and groan with the pain of hauling herself up onto the toilet with muscles that fought her every step of the way, Spike had had enough. He tore into the bathroom, fully expecting a fight… and was floored by what he saw: Buffy sitting on the toilet, sweat pouring down her face and neck, smiling for all she was worth.

“Me!” she said, proudly.

“Yeah, pet. You certainly did it all by yourself.” He smiled, holding out his arms to her. “You ready for your ride back to bed?”

She smiled, raised her arms and answered: “Done. Ready. Bed,” well and truly pleased to have put a sequence of words together.

As soon as she was safely tucked into bed, Spike knew it was time. “It’s time to let people know you’re back, pet. Little sis, for one. Are you up for this?”

Buffy began to shake. She could barely express herself, and dealing with Spike was hard enough. How would she handle well-meaning friends and Dawn swarming all over her? It had to be done, though. And it was just the phone. She could always disconnect the line if it became too much for her.

She drew a deep breath. “Yes. Call.”

“It’ll be okay, pet,” Spike promised as he placed the call to Los Angeles. “Oi, Peaches… need to speak to Dawn.”

Angel froze. Spike never, ever called and Dawn hadn’t bothered calling home in more than a month. This could only mean… “Is… is it over, Spike? Is she gone?”

“Are you deaf? Just get Dawn to the phone… now!” Waiting for the two sisters to reconnect, Spike’s nerves were making him jittery, as well as Buffy, and the pleasantries would have to wait for later.

“S-spike?” Dawn spoke hesitantly. “Oh God… I’m so sorry I haven’t called you. I-it’s been too hard, and I miss you and…”

“Slow down, Niblet, and hold on to your knickers for a moment,” Spike urged, handing the phone over to Buffy.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy took the receiver into her hands. Deep concentration evident on her face, she held it to her ear and as clearly as she could, said: “Dawnie?”


	7. Getting to Know You

**The Body – Chapter 7 – Getting to Know You**

With the oddest look on her face, Buffy handed the receiver back to Spike.

“What the hell did you say to her, Spike?” Angel roared. “If you called here to cause trouble, I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what, you wanker? Throw a hissy fit?” Spike snapped, worried about both of his girls. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the Bit.”

“Dawn fainted, you idiot. I want to know exactly what you said to her that caused her to hit the floor.”

Covering the phone, Spike whispered to Buffy before handing the phone back to her. With a smile, she brought the receiver back to her ear and repeated: “Dawnie.”

“Buffy? Is it really you?” Angel found himself truly stunned. Never in a million years had he expected Spike’s blind faith to actually pay off.

“F-first try,” she managed. Then, wearily, she handed the phone back to Spike.

Smiling at Buffy, Spike proceeded to rib Angel mercilessly. “Happy now, Poof? I told you I didn’t say anything to shock the little one’s socks off. ‘Course I didn’t mention her sister might’ve.” 

“It’s not that I’m not pleased beyond measure that Buffy’s come back to us, so don’t take this the wrong way, Spike, but what’s the matter with her? She sounds… wrong.” Angel’s voice caught in his throat as he contemplated the worst. “It’s not brain damage, is it? From the injury or the coma?”

Taking pity, Spike did his best to dispel the fear he could practically taste through the phone line. “Doc says it’s temporary… a couple days at most ‘til her speech improves. It’s already better than it was this morning.”

Taking comfort in Buffy’s presence relaxed him enough to explain her condition further: “The rest is a bit rougher, mate. You remember what she looked like when you were here last? She’s not much changed from that. It’s goin’ to take some time to build herself back up, so I’m hopin’ you’ll be able to keep the Niblet a little while longer.”

“You know how unfair that is? And probably impossible. She’s going to insist on seeing her sister as soon as possible.”

Spike snorted. “You think I don’t know that? You’re goin’ to have to keep a close eye on that one. She tends to try and slip out in the middle of the night when she thinks nobody’s lookin’.”

“Then how can you ask me to keep them apart?”

“And how can you ask Buffy to subject herself to the pity brigade? She’s barely talking, bed bound to boot, and worried about scarin’ the bloody hell out of everyone until she packs on a couple of pounds. Girl’s got a right to preserve her dignity.”

“Shit. Just… shit!” Angel found himself at a total loss for words. A vampire who could wax eloquent on any given subject, came to a loss at this. “I’ll do the best I can, Spike… but you’d better explain things to Dawn yourself. She’s insisting on talking to you.”

It sounded like Dawn snatched the phone from Angel’s hands. “Oh my God! She’s… she’s… back! Oh, Spike! Can I talk to her again? Please?” Dawn wheedled, needing confirmation that her sister was indeed back amongst the living.

“Dunno if she’s up to talking again, Bit, but we can try. Hold on now,” Spike said after careful thought. He handed the phone back to Buffy.

She smiled. “Love y-ou,” she managed. “Sorry…”

“Pet,” Spike cut in, taking the phone from Buffy’s lax fingers. “She’s exhausted. Speakin’s hard for Sis at the moment. I promise she’ll call you back as soon as she’s up to it.”

“I’m coming home, Spike. I have to see her.”

Spike’s heart ached as he tried to explain how that wouldn’t be a good idea. “Sweet Bit, don’t do this,” he asked quietly. “I know you want… need, to see Buffy, but she’s not in a good way right now. You’ve got to give her a little time to come back to herself. She’s been gone for such a long time…”

“She’s not worried about how she looks, is she? Please!”

Spike laughed. “Of course she is, pet. But it’s much more’n outer looks. You have to try and understand that Buffy wants to be more herself before seein’ anyone, so’s she can talk to you good and proper, not stuck in her bed.”

Dawn sniffled, trying to control her disappointment. “But I’m not just _anyone_ , Spike. I’m her sister. It should make a difference.”

“Pet, it does. For you more’n anyone. She doesn’t want to scare you,” Spike stubbornly insisted, though he knew the teenager wouldn’t really believe him. “If she can manage the words, you want to hear it from Buffy?”

“I-it would hurt her to tell me to stay away, wouldn’t it?” Dawn suddenly felt way older than her years. “I don’t want her to hurt anymore because of me. Tell her I’ll wait for her call, Spike. Tell her I love her.”

“I promise, Bit. Even if it’s just a few words, you’ll hear from big Sis tomorrow. Tell Peaches the same.”

Buffy curled her hand around Spike’s when he hung up the receiver, fairly sure hurting her younger sister had been exceptionally hard on the vampire. “Be okay, Spike,” she said, feeling her words coming back moment by moment now. “Summers women… are tough.”

Spike smiled at her through unshed tears, not caring about exposing his tender side to her any longer. “Yeah, luv. That they are. Turn Big Bad vampires into mush, they do.”

Buffy turned on her side and patted the mattress beside her. “Rest now, big bad mush.”

What else could a willing slave to do? Spike crawled into bed, gently pulling Buffy up close against his body as they fell asleep.

***

Judging by the light coming through the curtains, it was past noon when Spike woke up – alone. A quick glance around the room found Buffy sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed. Apparently she’d managed to shower and change her clothes. Her hair, however, remained wet and hung loose, the moisture being absorbed by a towel draped around her shoulders.

“Morning, lazy vampire.” She smiled. Then, pointing to her wet hair, asked, “Do… favor?”

It wasn’t perfect, but her speech sounded like the purest poetry to Spike’s ears. He got out of bed and went to her side, unable to stop himself from touching her. “Bloody hell, pet. Listen to you. _Look_ at you! One day an’ you’re movin’ an’ talkin’ like a bleedin’ miracle.” He shook his head in awe. “You want the blow dryer or the towel for your hair?”

“Towel and brush?”

“Your wish is my command, luv,” he said, as he briskly began to towel dry her hair. It was so much easier with her sitting up. So much more rewarding, too, when she closed her eyes and leaned in to the brush strokes as he gently untangled her tresses.

Soon her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail that wouldn’t get in her way. “Gorgeous, Slayer, if I must say so myself,” Spike approved. “Now, how’d you like a lift downstairs for a little brekkie, Spike style?”

“Why?”

“Why what, Slayer? Why breakfast? Just thought you might be hungry after sleepin’ all night. Gotta do my best to fatten you up.”

She shook her head. The look in her eyes told him she needed to know the answers to her question. “No. Why help me? Why you? Just you?”

 _Uh oh… here it comes. Buffy brain switches back on and old Spike gets kicked to the curb_ “Well, I’m the one with the most time on my hands, pet,” he stalled. “And haulin’ your featherweight carcass from bed to bath wasn’t a problem.”

“But _why?_ Why stay?” Buffy repeated, looking frustrated at having to repeat herself yet again. “Not friends,” she said, pointing at Spike. “Not nice,” she said, pointing at herself. “I die… you brag, three Slayers, gone. Who know… you not kill?”

Spike stood floored. She really had no clue as to how much he cared for her, did she?

He stalled again. “Can we save this discussion for a time when you no longer sound like Tonto and I’ve gotten a decent breakfast into you?” he pretended to grumble, squirming just a little under her scrutiny. 

“No You… save me, Spike. Tell me now. Short version fine.”

Spike rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Short version, right? Why I stayed and helped? Just remember, pet. You asked, I’m tellin’. You don’t get to hit me for tellin’ the truth this time.”

After a pause, Buffy nodded in agreement,

“I stayed because Dawn needed someone who believed you’d come back. She needed someone she could count on. I stayed because I love you.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “No! No love me!” she insisted. “No soul, no love. Told you before.”

“You can tell me that until you’re blue in the face, Slayer, and I’ll tell you it’s not true until my heart starts beating again. Vampires. Can. Love. An’ if it’s not most vampires, then _this_ vampire certainly can.” He strode over to Buffy and raised her chin with his fingertips. “Get this through your head, you stubborn bint. I loved Dru for well over a hundred years, and it took you for that to change. When I tell you I love you, I bloody well mean it.”

Buffy groaned, holding her hands up in defeat. She just didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Neither could she argue the fact that he was there, helping her, no matter what she thought. “Okay, fine. You believe. You help. Enough for now.”

 _That’d have to do,_ Spike thought unhappily. _For now._ At least she didn’t demand that he leave her alone and never darken her threshold again. “No more fightin’, pet. Time for eating, and then we’ll call the Watcher. Kick this show into high gear.”

***

Buffy made her careful way from the kitchen to the livingroom, at first leaning on the wall, then grabbing onto whatever furniture she could grasp. She had no rhythm to her gait, but at least she wasn’t crawling. As Spike said, it’d only been one day.

She gave Spike an unhappy glance as he reached for the phone. “I’m only goin’ t’call the Watcher, pet,” he reassured her. “We’ll take this slow, like. Not too many wankers to deal with at once.”

He left the same message at both The Magic Box and at Giles’ home: “Call me back as soon as you get this message. Spike.” Plain and simple… no chance to be misunderstood.

Right. He sighed as he hung up the phone, imagining all the ways that this could go wrong.

Two hours later, when Giles and the rest of the Scooby gang walked into the house, Spike wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

“When did she pass on, Spike?” Giles asked quietly. He’d obviously been crying, as had the rest of the little minions. “We’d like to see her before making final arrangements.”

 _Balls! Buffy was going to be furious._ “Let me make sure she’s decent before you come up.”

“Like you’d know from anything decent, Fangless,” muttered Xander.

Willow hissed under her breath: “Not. The. Time, Xan.”

They heard Spike’s summoning whistle and sadly climbed the stairs for what they knew was the last time.

The outraged gasps heard from everyone when they saw Spike sitting on the bed with Buffy pulled flush against his body were almost enough to make the vampire burst out into laughter.

“Spike, you must let her go, man. This surely isn’t healthy – not even for a vampire. She’ll have to be buried…” Giles made as if to take his Slayer from the vampire’s arms – and Buffy played her hand.

“Hey, Giles,” she waved weakly, more a wriggling of her fingers than a full fledged wave. “Tales of death a b-bit early.”

“Holy mother of Pearl!” Xander’s astonishment rendered him momentarily immobile. Then, with a great flurry, he and everyone else converged on the bed.

Spike felt Buffy stiffen in his arms as they all drew near, and knew she would bolt if she could. His sub vocal growl reverberated throughout the room and stopped everyone in their tracks.

“Hey, Fangless. Enough of the watchdog routine.” Xander swaggered over to Spike’s side of the bed, fully intent on dragging the vampire off the bed. “Why don’t you go away now and let her friends get close?”

This time Spike tensed up, and his growling intensified. It took Buffy’s hand on his arm to restrain him and keep him from attacking.

“Stay, please,” she whispered in his ear, desperately hoping to avoid a confrontation. Turning to her friends she said: “Back off. Sit down. Spike stays with me.”

“Buffy, dear,” Giles tried. “We’ve missed you so terribly much. You’ll have to understand that…”

“That’s the problem,” she cried. “ _Don’t_ understand. Spike, vampire, stayed to help. You, friends… where have you been?”

And in answer to that, the silence was deafening.


	8. Forget Me Not

**The Body – Chapter 8 – Forget Me Not**

Spike stroked the side of Buffy’s face, trying to keep her calm. “Give me a minute, pet. Let me try and get things sorted.”

He turned to Giles, ignoring the scowling man hovering over him. “Why’d you call the bleedin’ pack to arms? I asked you to call me back, nothing else.”

The elder man flushed, not used to being called out by the vampire. “I-I was just so sure that the only reason we’d hear from you would be…”

“Be what, Giles?” Buffy’s eyes blazed in her too small face. “You think me good as… dead?”

“Dear girl,” he began again, finding it most difficult to come up with the words. He’d already begun to mourn her passing and was having a hard time with the realization that she was alive, if not entirely well.

Nudging Spike aside, she pushed back the blanket and slowly staggered to her feet. “Look at me, Giles,” she demanded softly. “When did you last see me?”

It had been so long, Giles actually had to count back in his head. Lying wasn’t an option. He was sure Spike knew to the exact minute the last time he’d visited, and would call him on it.

He tried to explain himself. “It’d been very difficult, watching you lie there, losing so much of yourself as the weeks went by. The hospital sent you home with the firm belief that you were not going to recover.”

With a stubborn tilt of her chin, Buffy stared her Watcher down. “Not an answer, Giles. How. Long?”

“Nearly three months, I’m afraid,” he said quietly, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m not proud of it Buffy… I’ve been in active mourning since your… accident.”

The sound of feet pounding up the stairs caught everyone’s attention. As one, they turned their attention to the door.

“Accident, my ass,” Dawn yelled as she burst into the room, glaring at the crowd of people gathered there. “Buffy didn’t have an accident. She was ambushed because of all of you. You took away her protection. _You_ insisted she patrol alone.”

She turned her accusing eyes on Spike. “You begged me to stay away because it was too hard for Buffy, but suddenly everyone else is here? She’s _my_ sister. I have a right to be here. Not any of them.”

“Dawn…”

Buffy’s soft voice worked like magic, startling away her sister’s anger for a moment. She shuffled haltingly over to Dawn and wrapped her arms around the teen’s waist, hugging her gently. “Don’t be scared. Still me, here.”

“I-I’m not scared, Buffy.” Dawn sniffled into her older sister’s bony shoulder. “You forget I’ve seen you without makeup in the morning. _That’s_ scary.”

The teen gently urged Buffy back towards the bed, sitting on her left side, unwilling to be far from her side after so long apart. Spike took up his place at her right hand side.

“I didn’t start off calling anyone but the Watcher, Niblet. Trust me, I didn’t set out to make a circus of all this. It’s too much for big Sis, but… they’re here, an’ we might as well deal with them all at once.” He reached out to take Dawn’s hand. Buffy slipped her own hand into the mix, and lay with the three held clasped in her lap.

Spike shook Dawn’s hand gently. “And just how the bloody hell did you get here? Angel promised to keep you safe until -”

Dawn blushed, remembering the screaming hissy fit she’d thrown until Angel caved in to her demands. “Um… after telling him I’d find a way to get home with or without his help, he asked his friend Gunn to drive me. At least this way he’d know I got home safe.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “A girl after my own heart, you are. Can’t say I’m not glad to see you.” He smiled. Both his girls were home and safe. It didn’t get much better for him.

“Uh… hate to break up this little slumber party, girls, but we were in the middle of an important discussion when the Dawnster showed up.” Xander wasn’t at all happy seeing Spike so up close and personal with the Summers girls. Even though he knew Spike had been alone with Buffy for months, not having to watch them… together… had made denial easy.

“Okay, fine. My call.” Buffy felt the need to be in control of this madness; where her mortal enemy was her savior and her friends were unknown quantities. “Giles… gave up on me?”

Looking deeply ashamed, Giles faced the girl he’d considered to be his daughter head on. “Yes, God forgive me. After five months of hoping and praying that you’d awaken, I gave up. I-I’m so sorry, Buffy,” he said, his whole demeanor honestly begging for forgiveness.

Buffy had already refocused her attention. “Xander… you give up, too?”

“I wish I could have stayed with you, Buff.” He tried to meet her gaze but couldn’t hold the contact. “But while Fangless had all the time in the world on his hands, I had my job, and other obligations, and Anya, and… and… life went on,” he said, throwing his arms in the air helplessly.

“Not mad you have life, Xander. I understand. But you call Spike, right?” she asked hopefully. “See that I’m still here?”

His silence condemned him and Buffy tightened her grip on the hands she held, upset at discovering how quickly she’d been forgotten.

Buffy felt as if she’d fallen through the looking glass. Her head hurt from trying to remain awake and think for the first time in forever, the tension in the room and the hostility aimed at Spike was growing by the second, and nobody was acting like they should.

So many things were on her mind. “Need to thank you all,” Buffy managed, rubbing her temples to ease the headache that was getting worse by the moment, “for… paying bills. For saving house for me and Dawn.”

Still more silence from the group, and they were looking decidedly uneasy now, shifting back and forth on their feet, looking anywhere but directly at her. Buffy frowned. They… they hadn’t…”

“Anyone call Spike to check on me?” she pushed, glancing around the room, her voice rising with each question. “Anyone come to help, to give Spike a… break? Anyone patrol?”

With a heartbreaking little squeak, Buffy asked one final question: “Anyone remember me at all?” before passing out in her sister’s arms.

Dawn caught and rocked her. At Spike’s alarmed look, she motioned that he should go. He, in turn, gestured for them all to leave the room silently; knowing Buffy was in the best of hands for the time being. 

Willow was the first to speak once they’d reached the livingroom. “Goddess, she looks like a Holocaust survivor.”

With preternatural speed, Spike grabbed the little redhead by the arms and shook her. “Don’t. You ever. Talk. ‘Bout that woman in anything less than glowin’ terms, Red.”

Each time he shook Willow to punctuate his words, Spike flinched in pain, the chip firing over and over again until a small stream of blood trickled from his nose. Before his anger could escalate further, Giles wrested the out of control vampire away from Willow, while Tara cuddled and soothed the frightened girl.

“You’re damned lucky I’ve taken your obvious exhaustion into account, Spike, and didn’t stake you out of hand.” Giles was livid, shaking the vampire in much the same way as he’d shaken Willow moments before. “If you ever lay so much as a finger on…”

The sensation of cool liquid on his finger stopped the elder man’s rant mid-sentence.

“Blast!” he spat. “Xander, help me get Spike to the couch. Tara, if you’d be so kind…”

“Ice cubes, c-cold water and washcloths,” the quiet woman finished for him, going to collect the aforementioned items.

“Maybe he’s finally fried his brain,” Xander offered dryly, half-hoping and half-joking. “Or it’s some kind of karma, like a cosmic price paid for Buffy coming out of her coma – the bleached wonder slips into one.”

Spike moaned and stirred in Giles’ arms. “You wish, droopy boy,” he spluttered through the blood dripping from his nose. Droplets sprayed into the air. “It’d take more’n that bloody chip to put me out.”

Tara kneeled beside the bleeding vampire, tilting his head back gently and handing him a wrapped ice cube to hold on the bridge of his nose. As she wiped the blood gently from his face and neck, she sighed.

“You know the only reason you’re not a vampire toad right now is I know you really didn’t mean to hurt Willow, did you?”

Spike had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry, Glinda. Just…”

“Hush now, Spike,” she soothed. “Let somebody else talk for a change.” The soft smile she gave him took the sting out of her words. “You’ve been one hundred percent focused on Buffy for a long time, haven’t you? And with her finally awake, she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, isn’t she?”

Spike nodded his head, amazed at the girl’s insight. It’d been a long time since someone had taken the time to see what he’d truly thought or meant. It both scared and delighted him.

“You have to know Willow didn’t mean anything bad by what she said. It was just an observation, and you know it’s been far too long since any of us have been here. You’ve been here every single day for all these months. Perspectives are different, Spike. You need to understand.”

Tara removed the ice cube, and with a final swipe of the washcloth, was pleased to note the nosebleed had stopped. She brushed a few errant curls back from the vampire’s forehead and spoke quietly – intimately – sharing something precious and rare with him. “We all love her, Spike. Nobody wished her dead. You’ll just have to forgive us; we’re only human, after all.”

Willow, Xander, and Giles stood there in shock. They’d never heard so many words from Tara’s mouth at one time before.

Whatever spell she wove, Spike was much calmer when Tara walked away. “Thank you, luv,” he whispered, knowing that she heard him – and understood.

He stood to go back upstairs, to Buffy and Dawn, when Giles laid a hand on his shoulder; unasked questions obvious in the man’s face.

 _Ah, God. Not yet._ “Later, Watcher,” he asked wearily. “I’m tired an’ I need to check on the Slayer an’ Niblet.”

Halfway up the stairs he turned and addressed them all: “See yourselves out, lock the door behind you. Call tomorrow an’ I’ll answer whatever other questions you might have.” And with that, he headed up the remaining steps without another word.

***

Dawn wandered through her house, trying to get a feel for it after being away for nearly six weeks. It felt good to be home, if even for a little while. She knew there were no options – she’d be heading back with Angel either that evening or in a few days.

Buffy needed time to recover; Dawn could see that now. They’d talk on the phone at least once a day, if not more often. Soon… soon they’d be back together again. The two Summers girls. And with any luck at all…

Hello! What’s this? Rooting around in the desk by the front door, Dawn came across a soft grey leather checkbook cover caught her eye. Peeking inside, she saw one name written over and over again, and wondered who William Bennett was. Skimming through the register, she figured it out and ran upstairs, clutching the checkbook in her hand.

Standing by the door, Dawn rapped the checkbook against the door and tapped her foot, waiting for Spike’s reaction.

He eased away from Buffy, attempting to leave the room and meet Dawn’s questions out of earshot, but it was not to be.

“This is yours, isn’t it, Spike? Part of all that stuff Angel brought over when he picked me up, right?”

“Keep it down, pet,” he shushed. “Sis needs her sleep.”

“I will not! She deserves to know who’s been taking care of her all these months. I can’t believe nobody said different when she thanked them for paying our bills. And you allowed it!” The teenager smacked Spike in the chest, annoyance radiating off of her lanky frame. “For such a blabbermouth, when did you develop such a case of lockjaw?”

Buffy groaned, attempting a full body stretch and only half heartedly succeeding. “Should sleep more often,” she yawned, looking at the guilty pair by the door. “Hear very interesting things.”

“Please, pet… you have to understand I didn’t want to upset you.” Spike said, flustered. He hadn’t wanted to tell her about everything he did behind the scenes to keep her safe.

“No lies, Spike. No hiding.” Buffy was adamant. There had been too much that made no sense to her at all, and she wouldn’t take being kept in the dark any longer. “Makes no sense. You save me. You care for me. You pay bills. You, you, you! Where you get money? Steal it?”

Spike was incensed. Of course she’d think the worst of him. “I bloody well did _not_ steal it. Just because I mooch off you lot don’t mean I have none of my own.” He snorted, throwing his head back with a sharp bark of laughter. “Been around a long time, luv. Angelus might’ve been a right bastard, but he knew his way around money. He took William’s meager stash and invested it along with his own. Could say I’m wealthy enough in my own right to be comfy for another couple hundred years.”

“Truth? Honest truth, Spike?” she whispered, unable to believe that Mr. Hands Out was a wealthy vampire.

“Least you couldn’t refuse my help when you were unconscious, Slayer. It’s all mine, honest earned. It’s what you deserved, innit? My best.”

Buffy held out her arms, beckoning the vampire to sit next to her on the bed. She gripped his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “Don’t understand you, Spike,” she sighed, unable to comprehend all that’d gone on in her absence. “But I want to. Tell me everything.”

Looking into her eyes, he could see he’d get away with nothing – no lies, no more secrets, nothing but the plain truth. “All right, love,” he sighed. “But remember, you asked for it…”


	9. To Walk a Crooked Mile

**The Body – Chapter 9 – To Walk A Crooked Mile**

~One Month Later~

Glancing at herself in the mirror, Buffy was fairly well pleased with what she saw. She had actual breasts and hips once more. Gone was the walking cadaver look she’d sported when she’d first awakened. She’d even passed the Calista Flockhart starving-for-Hollywood actress stage.

Her skin was flushed pink and sweaty from her heavy exercise session. No musical accompaniment… Spike would be ticked off if he knew she were pushing herself that hard again. But it was just a step routine, even if it did feel brutal on her newly re-developing muscles.

She had to watch it around Spike, even though all he wanted was the best for her. Her vampire taskmaster had worked hard with Lynette Marcus in developing her physical therapy routine. But, knowing Buffy, once Lynette had gone home, Spike had added to the routine by half again, understanding that she’d be pushing for more.

However, even Spike had underestimated her drive to return to pre-accident form, and in defiance she snuck in extra aerobic and cardio-vascular routines whenever he slept.

With the workout finished, she’d just run upstairs for a quick shower, and he’d never –

The sound of clapping from the staircase sent an eerie sense of uh-oh skittering along her nerves.

“Did you really think I was clueless, pet?” Spike drawled as he came down. “That I didn’t know you’ve been sneakin’ extra workouts when my back was turned?”

She tried for the innocent look. “Ummmm… sorry?”

“Bollocks!”

He looked personally insulted, but she guessed she could understand why. In the past month, she’d put on about twelve pounds of soft, squishy flesh. Every time she turned around, Spike was trying to shovel plates full of fattening goodness at her. She just might have to gag him if she heard ‘eat hearty’ one more time. _Random wicked Buffy thought: I just might gag him anyway! Bad Buffy!_

Still, Spike insisted she needed to gain another twenty pounds. When they danced – so called now because to her, it wasn’t anywhere near enough to fighting to be called sparring or training – he’d constantly taunt her with ‘chicken bone’ jokes. Tell her she had to gain more weight so he’d have something to grab onto in a real tussle.

Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she’d be happy if she could gain and maintain another ten, maybe fifteen pounds. Holding onto weight was never an easy thing for her. Slaying and her super-active metabolism used to consume far too many calories to be considered healthy, and her lousy eating habits hadn’t helped.

She flashed him a mischievous grin. The moment he’d reached the bottom of the staircase, she attempted to run past him, not in the mood for another overexertion lecture. Buffy was feeling more fit and motivated than she had in a long time and was determined to continue with doing things her own way. She’d listen to her own intuition and to hell with everyone else. Even, on occasion, Spike.

Spike’s arm flashed out as she attempted to pass, catching her around the hips. He grinned like he’d discovered buried treasure. “Slayer, I’m impressed! You’ve passed the chicken-butt mark and moved on to girl-butt.” He emphasized his observation with a pinch.

“Pig!” she tossed back at him, wiggling free and waggling her duly-noted girl-butt in his direction as she continued up the stairs. She managed not to giggle. Oh yes, lately there was fun to be found in the smallest things.

She knew she could count on the sight of her luscious bottom making its way up the stairs being enough to make Spike add to the calorie count in his head for tonight’s dinner, and to her delight, her joyous mood seemed to give him an inspired idea. “What would you say to a four cheese lasagna with lots of garlic bread tonight… and a phone call to the Platelet, askin’ her back home to stay?”

Buffy squealed with joy. Lately, even thrice daily phone calls weren’t enough to satisfy her craving for family. A quick “Yes!”, and she was off to the shower while the vampire began the preparations for dinner. They’d call Dawn soon, together. It seemed like all of her decisions were made jointly those days.

Strange, though. She didn’t feel diminished in the slightest. Leaning on anyone was a new experience for her – but leaning on Spike was a learning experience. At first, it was out of necessity. There were just some things she couldn’t do by herself. The last week or so, however, she could sense a change. He pulled back. Not away – never far from her – but just far enough that she was able to rely on her own strengths more and more. Each joint decision made her stronger and seemed to shore her up.

Oddly enough, she didn’t really miss her old friends or their opinions as much as she’d thought she would. She had never realized just how overpowering and judgmental they’d become until she had someone who was willing to actually listen to her.

Spike asked her how she felt, and listened to her answers. He helped her when she asked for it, usually backed off when she didn’t need it, and made a general pain in the ass of himself in-between. She’d miss him terribly if he just up and left.

For certain, he’d been her savior, then her biggest supporter, and finally her partner – an equal, if she had to be honest with herself. She’d begun to think of herself and Spike as a couple. The problem was… a couple of whats?

What exactly was Spike to her? Maybe – partners? That was such a limiting word, though. Father Confessor? She had to giggle at that thought… but it was true, all the same. They’d spent countless hours over the last month talking about her absent family and friends, disappointments, and heartaches. They’d mapped out exercise routines and discussed hopes for her total recovery.

She’d worked on her speech until Spike finally had to tell her to shut up, shocking them both at the time. Connecty speech-brain Buffy had officially returned in full force.

Trying the word family on for size… someone to count on no matter how bad things got? Well, that was closer… but it was a little wiggy when her Bad Buffy ™ side took over. She had some very non-family thoughts about the blond vampire. Something she really needed to stop having before…

Buffy turned on the shower full blast and stripped off her clothing, promising herself the laundry would soon get done. She could always sneak in another session while the machine’s noises hid hers. Armed with a plan, she stepped into the stall, hoping to cleanse her muddled mind as well as her stinky body.

Standing under the showerhead, Buffy raised her head and her arms to greet the spray, relishing the heat and pounding of the water. She lowered her head and moved forward, allowing the water to fall on her aching neck and back muscles.

Her bathgel was in easy reach. Buffy uncapped the container, inhaling her newest favorite: ginger/lily, and poured a dab on her puff sponge. As she began to wash herself, she thought about what Spike had shared with her – about all the things he’d bought over the months of her recuperation: candles, incense, body oils, shampoos, gels, and moisturizers – all designed to awaken the senses.

His sensual assault hadn’t stopped upon her revival, either. Meals were spicier and more flavorful than the fruity yogurts that used to make up her whole diet. Lots of peppers, onions, and hot sauces seasoned Spike’s creations. Who’d’ve thought the Big Bad would have turned out to be such an excellent cook?

Even more, the house was filled with flowers on a weekly basis. Bouquets of roses, lilacs, honeysuckle graced every room, making the place smell like a florist’s shop.

But best of all, Spike’s nightly massages were still just that side of heaven. If there was a heaven. Her arms, legs, neck and back were covered in fragrant oils and pounded and kneaded into submission. No knot dared remain in her entire body by the time he was done with her.

A long, throaty, drawn out moan snapped Buffy from her reverie. Quickly coming to her senses, she realized that moan had come from herself. Thinking about Spike and his strong fingers on her, molding her, massaging her, had apparently led to the unconscious kneading of her own breasts. She’d dropped the puff somewhere along the way, and was alternating between stroking the small globes of soapy flesh with her hands and the occasional rolling pinch to her engorged nipples with her fingers.

The more she tried to stop thinking about Spike, the more firmly entrenched pervy thoughts of the blond vampire became. The strength in his hands, the feel of his cool skin against her warmer flesh, the solid feel of his magnificent torso as she collapsed, exhausted, against him after a workout.

Without her permission, her hands took on a life of their own and began to travel southward, rubbing soapy circles over her belly and smooth thighs.

In a maneuver that proved she’d regained her vaunted Slayer flexibility, Buffy raised her right leg, slowly, resting her foot about head level on the wall. When she was sure her left leg was locked and stable, she let go of the handrail Spike had installed, reaching once more for the bathgel.

Quickly lathering her hands, Buffy slid her fingers down her belly, through her coarse curls, and gently ran her fingertips over her outer lips, using just enough pressure to set off a low tingle of pleasure in her abdomen. With each successive pass of her fingers, she applied more pressure, until her fingers parted her folds, sliding knuckle deep into her body’s slick opening.

Her right hand set a demanding rhythm, bringing wave upon wave of deep seated yearning her body had long been denied. With the pad of the middle finger on her left hand, she began rubbing small circles over her clit, ramping up her pleasure immeasurably.

Eyes closed, head thrown back, it only took a few more strokes before Buffy screamed her pleasure aloud. Grabbing onto the rail for support, she lowered her leg and sat down in the tub, allowing the water to wash away the evidence of her release from her hands and the suds off of her body. She was breathing quickly, and had to say… look out, world… Bad Buffy™ was fast becoming her new bestest friend.

As she slowly came back to herself, Spike burst into the bathroom.

“You all right, luv?” he asked, panic evident in his voice. “Heard you callin’ out for me.”

“No!” Buffy shrieked, holding onto the shower curtain in case he decided to pull it back. “I-I’m fine, Spike. Honest. Just got some soap in my eye and it stung. See?” she said, sticking her head out of the shower, hoping that would satisfy her would-be savior.

Yeah, right. She was flushed and breathing hard, and the aroma of her climax was hardly disguised by the hot water and soap, even to her nose. This could prove to be embarrassing. She prayed fervently that he’d have a little tact for a change.

“Beautiful you are, pet. Nice and squeaky clean,” was all he said. “Finish up with your hair and we’ll make the call to the Poof. See if we can get little Sis home this evening in time for dinner.”

Buffy waited until he’d closed the door behind him, then hopped out of the shower and locked the door. Her cheeks were still burning. She couldn’t believe she’d called out his name as she climaxed. Stupid vampire hearing! Thank God he hadn’t caught her in the middle –

Quickly washing and rinsing her hair, she turned off the rapidly cooling water and toweled herself dry. A quick peek out the door led to a towel-clad dash across the hall to her room. While it would have made sense to use her mother’s en-suite bathroom, Buffy still felt like an interloper amongst Joyce’s things. In her mind, she’d only been gone for a couple of months, not more than a year.

She dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a red ribbed baby-t. A fast session with the blow-dryer, and Buffy pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Using nothing but a little moisturizer on her face, she was ready to greet the world. Spike, anyway. After how he’d seen her, makeup seemed a little unnecessary..

 _How he’d seen her_... How he saw her now. Spike had admitted his feelings for her over and over again, by word and deed, and Buffy was having a hard time refuting the evidence. She had to admit it, at least to herself: Spike loved Buffy. Unsouled Spike the vampire loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

How could she do that again? _“Very easily,” shouted Bad Buffy™. “Just look at that gorgeous hunk of vampire. And we do remember that shower, don’t we?”_

Oh, that was just so wrong! She was only twenty one years old and had already lived and lost what she’d thought of as the grand passion of her life… Angel. A souled vampire – until she screwed the soul right out of him. The thought of what could go wrong with an unsouled, chipped vampire should have scared the hell out of her. Yet…

Aargh! Too much thinking. Time to go downstairs, call Dawnie and help Spike with dinner.

***

Tara approached the house on Revello Drive with hope in her heart. She hadn’t called before, hoping she wouldn’t be turned away if she showed up without warning.

The estrangement between the Scoobies and Buffy was destroying them. Yes, it was their fault. Each and every one of Buffy’s friends was willing to kick the vampire who’d saved Buffy’s life and had uncompromising faith in her return, to the curb. The resulting animosity isolated both camps.

As she neared the door, Tara heard a bloodcurdling scream – a sound she’d never heard from Buffy in all the time she’d known her. She rang the bell, and beat on the door, hard – hoping to be heard above the racket coming from inside the house. _Oh, God, what if the others were right about…_

Buffy answered the door gasping for breath, blood dripping down her face from a massive wound on her head. Or so it looked at first glance.

The grin on the girl’s face belied the probability of such a wound, and when Tara took in a deep breath, she realized that it wasn’t blood trailing down Buffy’s cheeks, but – tomato sauce? Her eyes grew wide at the sight before her. “My Goddess, Buffy… you look amazing!”

“Girl looks damned fine even covered with most of dinner.” Spike appeared suddenly behind Buffy, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What can we do for you, little witch?”

Tara blushed. “W-would you mind inviting me in?”

Buffy wiggled out of Spike’s embrace, opening the door and stepping aside to let Tara enter. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes. Seems I need to shower yet again.” She grinned, turning to the vampire. “Can you hold down the kitchen on your own till I get back?”

With a snort, he cuffed her gently on the back of her head, sending little droplets of tomato sauce flying. “You keep your sticky little fingers out of my kitchen, Missy, and I’ll keep my fingers out of…”

With a very guilty little ‘eep’ a suddenly pink-cheeked Buffy shoved Spike and started upstairs. “Don’t you go telling Tara anything I’ll have to smack you for when I get back.”

Tara watched the interplay with amazement. Whatever they did was in synch with the other. Their speech patterns, movements… it was like watching an old, married couple deep into their domesticity.

She followed Spike into the kitchen, once again surprised to see him putting together two trays of lasagna. Lots of grated cheeses, a pan of spicy meat sauce, and a pot of the sauce Buffy was obviously wearing. The overall smell was heavenly.

“I-I’m so impressed, Spike. I never figured you for a chef.”

Spike gave her a look. “Now, we both know you’re not here to compliment me on my culinary skills, Tara,” he chided. “Did the pack send you here to make sure I’m not takin’ advantage of the Slayer? Luv, I’m not keepin’ her naked and chained to the bed against her will so’s I can have my wicked way with her.”

Tara blushed again, the image in her head was a little too provocative. She stilled her vivid imagination with great effort, and managed to keep her voice level. “She looks like you’ve taken very good care of her, Spike. A-almost back to normal. The brown hair makes her look more like Dawnie.”

“Niblet’s comin’ back home for dinner, hence the fancy fixin’s. Care to join us?” he asked, half-hoping despite himself that she would stay. Buffy needed her friends back in her life, even though she wouldn’t admit it right now. The trick would be getting them to accept her as she was now; a woman more capable of standing on her own two feet than ever before.

“That’s great. I’m sure Dawnie will be happy to see her sister again. Is she coming back to stay?”

“Plan t’ask her after dinner. Make it her choice, no pressure.”

With a nod, Tara agreed. “You know the rest of Buffy’s friends miss her, too, Spike,” she said quietly. “I c-came alone today to see if we could pave the way for them…”

“Pave the way for who, Tara?” Buffy breezed into the kitchen, freshly washed and dressed in something a little less tomato-y.

Spike answered for her, hoping to keep things calm. “Just talkin’ about possibly seein’ your old friends again, pet. Tara says they miss you.”

Buffy snorted, making a show of opening and closing the cabinet doors to hide her discomfort with the subject. “Yeah, they miss me. That’s why I haven’t heard a word from any of ‘em since I woke up and wouldn’t dance to their tune.”

“It’s been a month, luv,” Spike tried, holding her shoulders and turning her to look into her angry face. “You know you’ll have to deal with ‘em again. You’re a lot stronger now… more yourself. Maybe things’ll go better this time.”

“Spike’s told me Dawnie’s coming back this evening,” Tara volunteered. “It would be good for everyone if things got back to normal.”

Buffy shook her head. “Tara, I thank you for coming over. It’s good to see you, really it is. But I’ve been finding out just what it means to make decisions without having to second guess myself as to whether my _friends_ would approve. I’m twenty one years old and I’ve been the Slayer for the past six years. I think I can bloody well make up my own mind about the way I want to run my own life without interference.”

Tara frowned upon hearing the borrowed Briticism. “Are you sure, Buffy? Are you sure you’re making up your own mind? Don’t you hear yourself? You sound like Spike. Maybe he’s interfering with you and keeping you from your real friends.”

“Never thought I’d hear you toe the party line, witch.” Spike seemed outwardly calm, but Tara could read the hurt and anger on his face. “Buffy makes up her own mind. She wants me out, all she has to do is say so. She wants her friends in, same deal.”

The sound of breaking glass refocused their attention on Buffy, who’d thrown a glass bowl against the wall.

“I’m standing right here, people. I’m not incompetent. I said I make up my own mind about things, Tara. Nobody influences me. So I said the word ‘bloody’. I’ve heard it from Spike day in and day out for more than four years. No biggie. What if I suddenly started saying ‘Dear Lord’? Would you suddenly tell me Giles has too much influence on me?”

Spike turned his attention away from the women. He cleaned up the broken glass, and went back to finishing layering the lasagna. When the pans were finished and placed in the oven, he spoke. “Ladies, I’m goin’ upstairs to shower an’ get ready for Niblet’s arrival. Settle this shite before she comes home. She’s been upset enough by friends choosin’ sides. Don’t make it worse by fightin’ in front of her.”

Tara deflated. “Goddess, Buffy… I’m sorry, really. I-I didn’t come here to fight. I wanted to see you. I miss us being all together. Most of all, I know Spike’s been nothing but good for you. I don’t even know why I went off on him like that. Forgive me? Please?”

Buffy stared down the young woman before saying anything. “You’re the newest to the Scoobies, Tara. One with the least time put in to ties and relationships. How come you came here instead of them? Why aren’t my closest friends here fighting for our friendship?”

“Why haven’t you called them, yourself?”

_Okay – stalemate._

“It’s not all about Spike, you know. All their fears and worries. They think you don’t need them anymore. That you don’t want them in your life.”

“That’s just it! I _don’t_ need them in my life.” Buffy twisted her hands in front of her. “But I do _want_ them in my life. That’s a whole different ball of waxy stuff. They’ve just got to understand I can make my own decisions. They don’t have to like my choices, but they have to respect them.”

“Did you ever tell them that, Buffy?”

“How could I?” Buffy snapped. “This is all new to me. It’s like I never realized how controlling my friends were. Xander and Willow were always telling me that my choice of boyfriends sucked. A-and it’s not as if they were wrong… but I should have been allowed to find that out on my own. It’s not their place to tell me who I should and shouldn’t date.”

Looking into Tara’s eyes, she said: “If I were to tell Willow that I thought it was a bad idea for her to date you… not because of the gay thing, but that you weren’t right for her… how do you think that would sit? Or if I told her that maybe she wasn’t gay, and just letting you influence her?”

This time it was Tara’s turn to look thoughtful. “I guess I never thought of it that way. It’s just that everyone was so close…”

“And we’re growing up. Relationships are changing,” Buffy insisted. “And I’ve been through a life-altering experience that everyone’s just gonna have to accept. I’m not the same little girl as I was before the coma. And I’m not going to allow anyone to push me around. Not even Spike. The difference is, he doesn’t try.”

Tara looked up wistfully. “Is there any hope for us? W-will we ever be friends again?”

Buffy unclenched her hands, grabbing onto a chair for support. “I’ll tell you what, Tara. Talk to them and come up with an evening that’s good for everyone. Have somebody call me and Spike and I will set up a dinner and a Scooby meeting for afterwards.” Obviously still upset, she added, “But respect for me and my… for me and Spike is the first order of business. If it breaks down into another ‘let’s stake the evil vampire for his corrupting influence on the poor wittle Slayer’ fest, I’m through.”

Tara nodded. “I get that. Respect on both sides. I’ll do my best, I promise. I’ll have someone call you soon… real soon. M-maybe it’s best if I just go and start to coordinate this now… leave you and Dawn some privacy for her homecoming?”

And as if on cue, Spike and Dawn walked in through the kitchen door.


	10. Homecomings

**The Body – Chapter 10 – Homecomings**

Tara closed the door behind her as she left the house. She’d spent a few awkward moments with Dawn, but left before the girl could question why she wasn’t staying for dinner.

The unexpected blow-up at Spike and the ensuing argument with Buffy left her feeling rattled. On the one hand, Buffy looked better than she’d expected. Her speech and brain functions were certainly up to par, and her motor skills seemed normal. Tara knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Buffy’s condition was due to Spike’s diligence and the Slayer’s intrinsic stubborn nature. On the other hand, Buffy was isolated from everyone she knew, apparently by her own choice.

Getting the Scoobies back together again might have been a pipe dream after all. Tara just couldn’t see Xander and Giles accepting Buffy’s increased independence, and yet odd reliance, on Spike without a screaming match and the ever present threat of physical violence.

Well, the ball was in her court, now. She’d promised Buffy to present her terms to the gang and with any luck, they’d all be sitting down together within the next few days.

~*~

Inside the house the very walls shook with Dawn’s squeals of joy. “Look at you, Buffy! You’re gorgeous!” she shrieked, grabbing her sister around the waist. “I’d hoped for so long and… and… I believed. I really did and we talked and I could tell, and even Spike told me, but…”

“I know. I know.” Buffy laughed, overjoyed at having her younger sister back home where she belonged. “There’s nothing quite like seeing for yourself, and holding each other in not so bony arms.”

“Geeze, you were such a Skeletor. Next to you, I looked fat.”

Buffy hugged her tightly once more, glimpsing Spike over Dawn’s shoulder. The soft smile on the vampire’s lips touched her deeply. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently, knowing the words were inadequate but they would have to do for now.

Reluctantly disengaging herself from her sister’s embrace, Buffy’s nerves got the better of her and it was her turn to babble. “Um, dinner should be ready in about a half hour or so, and you should consider yourself lucky I wasn’t cooking. Spike’s done a hell of a job with the lasagna and I did make the garlic butter for the bread, so I am getting better with the whole cooking thing and I’d get better much faster if Vampy Crocker would ease up and let me in the kitchen more…”

“I-it’s okay, Sis. I didn’t come back here for your mega-cooking skills.” Dawn began to fidget like a Mexican jumping bean. “I just want… I mean… it’s just so good to see you again. A-and Spike, too. And the house, and my room, and… and...”

With the faux sigh of the not really put upon, Spike brought his hands to his head “You women and your bloody babble-fest. Just let it go. You’re home. You’re together. Enjoy it.”

“Shut up, Spike!”

“Shut up, Spike!”

“Oi! Remind me again why I wanted to be around you two?”

Dawn grabbed him around the neck, hugging him for all she was worth. “Because you love us, silly vampire.”

_Oh crap._

In her excitement over being back home, Dawn had dropped her guard. She and Spike might have been open and free about expressing their feelings for one another, but Buffy? Buffy was treading into new territory.

“Buffy?” She watched her sister for any signs of anger or hostility towards her fangy big brother. It wouldn’t take much to make this homecoming a disaster.

Buffy sat on the couch, cringing inwardly. She’d really done a self-righteous number on her sister if the simple statement of Spike’s obvious affection garnered the worry she saw in both their faces.

“It’s fine Dawnie,” she soothed. “One thing I can’t deny is Spike’s feelings anymore. Not after all these months... all he’s done for us both. I know how much he means to you.”

“Whoa! Who are you and what did you do with…”

Jumping up, Buffy flung her hands out in frustration. “Stop! Not one more word!” she cried. “If I hear those words from one more person, no judge in the world will hold me responsible. I-I’m not… I wasn’t… am?”

Her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. _Gods, everybody must think I’m such a bitch._

Spike was by her side in seconds. “Oh, pet,” he murmured, taking her hands in his. “S’just a joke. You know we don’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Buffy please don’t cry,” Dawn begged, her own eyes overflowing. “I just wanted to be here with you so bad. I missed you so much, even when you acted like a spoiled brat. Please, please, _please_ don’t make me go back to Angel’s. I wanna stay home. With you and Spike.”

Buffy looked over at Spike, as if seeking… not exactly permission or confirmation. It was her house, after all, and her sister, but the twinkle in his eyes showed his pleasure.

“Of course you can stay. It’s your home and I’m doing great and we miss you so much.” _And just when did we turn all Addams Family?_

“Great,” Dawn squealed. “’cause Angel's bringing all my stuff over in a couple of hours. I so knew you'd cave.”

_No one can resist the power of the Summers' pout!!!!_

“Pretty sure of yourself, ain’t you, Platelet?”

“Yuh huh.” Giddy with relief that they weren’t going to send her away, Dawn whipped out her cell phone and quickly stabbed in the number. “It’s all set, Angel. You can bring home my junk any time.”

Buffy smiled at her sister, thrilled to have her little family together again. _“Don’t forget the pretty vampire!”_ Bad Buffy insisted. _“He’s as much a part of your life now as anyone. Moreso, lately.”_

She really did need to have a talk with herself. And soon.

~*~

~Three Days Later~

True to her word, Tara had arranged a meeting between Buffy and her friends, and they now sat on one side of the room, Buffy, Spike, and Dawn on the other. Buffy tried to figure out just when it became an ‘us against them’ kind of situation.

Xander was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Does _he_ have to hover like that?” The angry brunet jabbed his finger in Spike’s direction. “He looks like a vulture hanging over the back of your chair, Buffy. Does he have to be here at all? We came to see you.”

“Does _she_ have to be here?” Buffy shot back, pointing a mirroring finger at Anya. “You might have come to see me, but she’d rather be off eviscerating some poor, dumb...”

“Uh, hello? Ex-demon here and…”

“I’m not sending Spike out of the room, Xander. This whole meeting is as much about him as it is about any of us.”

“Oh my God! Just listen to you all,” Dawn shrieked. “Five years olds. That’s what you all sound like.”

“That’s the point I was trying to make. No offence, Anya?”

The ex-demon sniffed. “None taken, really. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“And just so’s we’re clear about the ground-rules…” Buffy continued, hoping to get past the opening salvos, “Tara did mention that attacking Spike and our continuing discussion were not mixy things, right?”

Buffy felt her bravado slide away as she faced her once close-knit group of friends.

The sullen expression on Xander’s face was discouraging, but at least he was silent. Anya quite frankly looked bored, checking out her manicure and yawning. Tara’s face was full of soft hope, holding hands with Willow, who looked lost. Giles’ face was neutral, giving nothing away.

_And these people were her best friends and trusted allies?_

She felt Dawn’s hands slip into hers and Spike’s tighten around her shoulders. They knew Buffy wanted to bolt from the room. She’d be strong, though. For them. For herself. Being avoidy-girl hadn’t done her any favors over the years and it was time to take a stand.

“I-I really am glad to see you guys again,” she stammered, not sure who she was trying to convince of the fact.

“You don’t _seem_ overly enthusiastic about it. We’ve been here for a half hour already and there’s really been no eye contact at all.”

“Anya!”

“Well, it’s true, Xander. It all feels forced and uncomfortable, and if all we’re going to do is sit here and be miserable, I want to go home.”

Rising quickly from the couch, Buffy crossed the room and stood between Anya and the door.

“Please don’t leave, Anya. We’ve all got to talk, and it looks like you’re the only one with the… stones to do it. Everyone has something they want to say and they’re all holding it in. Trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings.” 

“Except for Xander.”

“True,” Buffy agreed. “He’s been a bit vocal about his opinions. But I’d really like to hear what you have to say. And don’t hold back. I mean, don’t let anyone tell you what to say or not say. How do you feel about what’s going on with my life?”

Anya chewed lightly on her lower lip before speaking. She obviously wasn’t used to being asked to voice her own opinion.

“Alright, then. I’m glad you didn’t die. I’m glad you woke up from your coma. And if Spike is responsible for helping you look as good and healthy as you look now, I think we all owe him a massive debt.” She hurried to add: “Not the kind where you have to pay him money, of course. Human life isn’t to be calculated in dollars and cents, right?”

“Leave it to you, pet,” Spike chimed in. “Cut right to the heart of the matter.”

Dawn aimed a slap at the back of his head.

“Hush, Spike. Dawnie’s right. Don’t push things and maybe we’ll get somewhere this time.” Turning back to the ex-demon, Buffy asked: “Do you have any problems if I let Spike stay here permanently?”

“Makes it easier for both of you to have many orgasms if you’re under the same roof.” Anya tossed her hair before sitting back down next to a gasping Xander. “No skin off my nose who you’re boinking.”

“Now see here, Anya,” Giles interjected over the splutterings of all parties in the room. “There was no mention of ‘boinking’ or other related activities. Must everything be about sex with you?”

“Not another word, Ahn.” Xander forced the words through gritted teeth, his expression murderous. “For the love of everything non-Hellmouthy, don’t answer that.”

Giles stepped back as Buffy rounded on him. Hands planted firmly on her hips, she stared as if daring him to speak. They stood facing each other for several long, tense minutes before the Slayer broke the ice.

“Just spit it out, Giles, before it kills you. You look like you could use a half dozen bran muffins. Tell me what you think I’m doing wrong.”

A deep sigh preceded the removal and cleansing of the glasses ritual before the man was composed enough to speak his piece.

“Frankly, Buffy, I’m still just coming to terms with your remarkable recovery. I-I’d hoped… I mean, prayed for you to walk again, but this…” he said, spreading his arms out to encompass her entirety, “… this was more than I dared dream of.”

With a sniffle, Buffy threw herself into her Watcher’s open arms. It had been a long time coming, and even if the peace lasted for only a moment, she tried to draw comfort from it.

“My dear girl,” he gasped. “Oxygen is still a necessary component for breathing.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Guess I don’t know my own strength anymore.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know it’s not far off the mark from what I remember,” he groaned, holding his sore ribs gently. “How are you managing to train?”

“My physical therapist, Lynette Marcus, left a workout schedule for me, and Spike’s been sparring…”  
Buffy could tell Giles was struggling to come up with the words, but she wasn’t going to let anyone off the hook. Not this time. “Hey! No fair trying to distract me, Giles. You still haven’t answered my question. I need to hear your problems with my decisions.”

“Very well, then. I find myself in the unenviable position of having to be grateful to a vampire for all he’s done on your behalf. I never thought he would see it through.” Turning to the vampire in question, he added: “Spike, truly, I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay as much as I am loathe to admit it. If Buffy wishes you to stay, I will abide by her decision. However…”

“Yeah, I know the song, Rupert. You’ll stake me good and proper if I hurt either the Slayer or Niblet in any way, shape or form. ‘Fraid you’re gonna have to come up with a new tune, mate.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. At least several people weren’t going to give her a hard time. She was also duly impressed with Spike’s reaction, or rather non-reaction to her announcement. It was rather off-the-cuff and she’d not even broached the subject of his staying on before.

She had to admit she’d gotten comfortable with the way things were between them. It was nice not being alone, and the give and take with someone who knew her life inside and out was a pleasure. _Not to mention the daily viewing of all those glistening muscles when he comes out of the shower!_ Bad Buffy added her two cents to the mix. _And if that towel should happen to slip…?_

Buffy wiped at the corner of her mouth, sure she had started to drool. Gazing around the room at all the expectant faces, she realized she must have drifted off into fantasy land for just a moment.

“Okay, then,” she continued, hoping nobody would call her on her lapse. “Tara? Willow? What’s the sitch with you two?”

“I-I’m fine if you are,” Tara offered, obviously taking their last conversation to heart. “Spike has done more than any of us expected of him.” She squeezed Willow’s hand for support, nervous at being the focus of everyone’s attention.

Willow looked around the room at her friends before resting her gaze on Spike. “I don’t exactly trust you, what with the whole bottle-in-the-face thing we had going on, but I do trust Buffy. If _she_ trusts you I guess it’ll have to be good enough for me. For now. But…” she stated, grasping an invisible something in front of her face, “…shovel, head. Just ask Buffy to explain.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Xander exclaimed. “Has everybody lost their minds? What is this… adopt a vampire month?”

Before Buffy could say a word, Anya fixed him with a glare worthy of her vengeance demon days. One that said if he held his family jewels dear, he’d better rein it in. And if he ever expected to get laid again? Retract, retract, retract.

For a change, he took the hint. “Fine! None of you are willing to listen to reason, and Willie Wanna-Bite gets a new home. I get it. But don’t you come running to me when he drains you dry ‘cause I’m not too proud that I won’t be doin’ the ‘nyah nyah’ dance of I told you so.”

“So we’re all clear here?” Anya stood, straightening her clothes. “Spike stays, nobody stakes him, and we’re all hunky dory friends again?”

Relaxed around her friends for the first time since she’d awoken from the coma, Buffy smiled. Maybe she could have it all.


End file.
